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Two  Thousand  Miles 
on  an  Automobile 


u    • 

Two  Thousand  Miles 
on  an  Automobile 

BEING  A  DESULTORY  NARRATIVE  OF 

A  TRIP  THROUGH  NEW  ENGLAND, 

NEW  YORK,  CANADA,  AND 

THE  WEST 


BY 

"  CHAUFFEUR 


WITH    EIGHTEEN    ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY 

FRANK    VER  BECK 


Philadelphia  and   London 

J.  B.  Lippincott   Company 

1902 


Copyright,  IQO2 
By  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company 

Published  September,  1902 


Printed  by 
J,  B.  Lippincott  Company,  Philadelphia,  U.  S.  A. 


To  L.  O.  E. 


Who  for  more  than  sixteen  hundred  miles 
of  the  journey  faced  dangers  and  discom 
forts  with  an  equanimity  worthy  a  better 
cause,  and  whose  company  lightened  the 
burdens  and  enhanced  the  pleasure  of  the 


CHAUFFEUR" 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — SOME  PRELIMINARY  OBSERVATIONS 9 

II. — THE  MACHINE  USED 20 

III.— THE  START 27 

IV. — INTO  OHIO 42 

V. — Ox  TO  BUFFALO 60 

VI.— BUFFALO 73 

VII. — BUFFALO  TO  CANANDAIGUA 83 

VIII. — THE  MORGAN  MYSTERY 98 

IX. — THROUGH  WESTERN  NEW  YORK 120 

X. — THE  MOHAWK  VALLEY 131 

XI. — THE  VALLEY  OF  LEBANON 137 

XII. — AN  INCIDENT  OF  TRAVEI 159 

XIII. — THROUGH  MASSACHUSETTS 168 

XIV. — LEXINGTON  AND  CONCORD      188 

XV. — RHODE  ISLAND  AND  CONNECTICUT 259 

XVI. — ANARCHISM 277 

XVII. — NEW  YORK  TO  BUFFALO 292 

XVIII.—  THROUGH  CANADA  HOME  .           308 


FOREWORD 


To  disarm  criticism  at  the  outset,  the  writer  acknowl 
edges  a  thousand  imperfections  in  this  discursive  story. 
In  all  truth,  it  is  a  most  garrulous  and  incoherent 
narrative.  Like  the  automobile,  part  of  the  time  the 
narrative  moves,  part  of  the  time  it  does  not;  now  it 
is  in  the  road  pursuing  a  straight  course;  then  again 
it  is  in  the  ditch,  or  far  afield,  quite  beyond  control  and 
out  of  reason.  It  is  impossible  to  write  coolly,  calmly, 
logically,  and  coherently  about  the. automobile;  it  is 
not  a  cool,  calm,  logical,  or  coherent  beast,  the  exact 
reverse  being  true. 

The  critic  who  has  never  driven  a  machine  is  not 
qualified  to  speak  concerning  the  things  contained 
herein,  while  the  critic  who  has  will  speak  with  the 
charity  and  chastened  humility  which  spring  from 
adversity. 

The  charm  of  automobiling  lies  less  in  the  sport 
itself  than  in  the  unusual  contact  with  people  and 
things,  hence  any  description  of  a  tour  would  be  in 
complete  without  reflections  by  the  way ;  the  imagina 
tion  once  in  will  not  out;  it  even  seeks  to  usurp  the 
humbler  function  of  observation.  However,  the  ar- 

7 


8  Foreword 

rangement  of  chapters  and  headings — like  finger-posts 
or  danger  signs — is  such  that  the  wary  reader  may 
avoid  the  bad  places  and  go  through  from  cover  to 
cover,  choosing  his  own  route.  To  facilitate  the  find 
ing  of  what  few  morsels  of  practical  value  the  book 
may  contain,  an  index  has  been  prepared  which  will 
enable  the  casual  reader  to  select  his  pages  with  dis 
crimination. 

These  confessions  and  warnings  are  printed  in  this 
conspicuous  manner  so  that  the  uncertain  seeker  after 
"  something  to  read"  may  see  at  a  glance  the  poor  sort 
of  entertainment  offered  herein,  and  replace  the  book 
upon  the  shelf  without  buying. 


_  *-*'£::.  > 

*     ^ 

THE 


CHAPTER    ONE 

SOME    PRELIMINARY    OBSERVATIONS 


ANY  woman  can  drive  an  electric  automobile,  any 
man  can  drive  a  steam,  but  neither  man  nor  woman 
can  drive  a  gasoline;  it  follows  its  own  odorous  will, 
and  goes  or  goes  not  as  it  feels  disposed. 

For  this  very  wilfulness  the  gasoline  motor  is  the 
most  fascinating  machine  of  all.  It  possesses  the 
subtle  attraction  of  caprice;  it  constantly  offers  some 
thing  to  overcome ;  as  in  golf,  you  start  out  each  time 
to  beat  your  own  record.  The  machine  is  your  tricky 
and  resourceful  opponent.  When  you  think  it  con 
quered  and  well-broken  to  harness,  submissive  and  re- 

9 


A  cap 
beast 


io  On  an  Automobile 

signed  to  your  will,  behold  it  is  as  obstinate  as  a  mule, 
— balks,  kicks,  snorts,  puffs,  blows,  or,  what  is  worse, 
refuses  to  kick,  snort,  puff,  and  blow,  but  stands  in 
stubborn  silence,  an  obdurate  beast  which  no  amount 
of  coaxing,  cajoling,  cranking  will  start. 

One  of  the  beauties  of  the  beast  is  its  strict  im 
partiality.  It  shows  no  more  deference  to  maker  than 
to  owner;  it  moves  no  more  quickly  for  expert  me 
chanic  than  for  amateur  driver.  When  it  balks,  it 
balks, — inventor,  manufacturer,  mechanic,  stand  puz 
zled;  suddenly  it  starts, — they  are  equally  puzzled. 

Who  has  not  seen  inventors  of  these  capricious 
motors  standing  by  the  roadside  scratching  their  heads 
in  despair,  utterly  at  a  loss  to  know  why  the  stubborn 
thing  does  not  go?  Who  has  not  seen  skilled  me 
chanics  in  blue  jeans  and  unskilled  amateurs  in  jeans 
of  leather,  so  to  speak,  flat  on  their  backs  under  the 
vehicle,  peering  upward  into  the  intricacies  of  the 
mechanism,  trying  to  find  the  cause, — the  obscure,  the 
hidden  source  of  all  their  trouble?  And  then  the 
probing  with  wires,  the  tugs  with  wrenches,  the  wrest 
ling  with  screw-drivers,  the  many  trials, — for  the  most 
part  futile, — the  subdued  language  of  the  bunkers,  and 
at  length,  when  least  expected,  a  start,  and  the  machine 
goes  off  as  if  nothing  at  all  had  been  the  matter.  It 
is  then  the  skilled  driver  looks  wise  and  does  not  be 
tray  his  surprise  to  the  gaping  crowd,  just  looks  as  if 
the  start  were  the  anticipated  result  of  his  well-directed 
efforts  instead  of  a  chance  hit  amidst  blind  gropings. 
A  Frenchman's  One  cannot  but  sympathize  with  the  vanity  of  the 
French  chauffeur  who  stops  his  machine  in  the  midst 
of  a  crowd  when  it  is  working  perfectly,  makes  a  few 


Preliminary   Observations  1 1 

idle  passes  with  wrenches  and  oil-cans,  pulls  a  lever 
and  is  off,  all  for  the  pleasure  of  hearing  the  populace 
remark,  "  He  understands  his  machine.  He  is  a  good 
one."  While  the  poor  fellow,  who  really  is  in  trouble, 
sweats  and  groans  and  all  but  swears  as  he  works  in 
vain  to  find  what  is  the  matter,  to  the  delight  of  the 
onlookers  who  laugh  at  what  seems  to  them  ignorance 
and  lack  of  skill. 

And  why  should  not  these  things  be?     Is  not  the    Them 
multitude  always  with  us — or  against  us?    There  is  no   c 
spot  so  dreary,  no  country  so  waste,  no  highway  so  far 
removed  from  the  habitations  and  haunts  of  man  that 
a  crowd  of  gaping  people  will  not  spring  up  when  an 
automobile   stops   for   repairs.      Choose  a  plain,   the 
broad  expanse  of  which  is  unbroken  by  a  sign  of  man ; 
a  wood,  the  depths  of  which  baffle  the  eye  and  tangle 
the  foot ;   let  your  automobile  stop  for  so  long  as  sixty 
seconds,  and  the  populace  begin  to  gather,  with  the 
small  boy  in  the  van;  like  birds  of  prey  they  perch ( 
upon  all  parts  of  the  machine,  choosing  by  quick  in 
tuition   those  parts  most   susceptible  to  injury   from 
weight  and  contact,  until  you  scarcely  can  move  and 
do  the  things  you  have  to  do. 

The  curiosity  of  the  small  boy  is  the  forerunner  of 
knowledge,  and  must  be  satisfied.  It  is  quite  idle  to 
tell  him  to  "  Keep  away !"  it  is  worse  than  useless  to 
lose  your  temper  and  order  him  to  "  Clear  out !"  it  is 
a  physical  impossibility  for  him  to  do  either;  the  law 
of  his  being  requires  him  to  remain  where  he  is  and 
to  indefatigably  get  in  the  way.  If  he  did  not  pry  into 
everything  and  ask  a  thousand  questions,  the  thought 
ful  observer  would  be  fearful  lest  he  were  an  idiot. 


12  On  an  Automobile 

The  American  small  boy  is  not  idiotic ;  tested  by  his 
curiosity  concerning  automobiles,  he  is  the  fruition  of 
the  centuries,  the  genius  tfre  world  is  awaiting,  the 
coming  ruler  of  men  and  empires,  or — who  knows? — 
the  coming  master  of  the  automobile. 

His  eiders  Happily,  curiosity  is  not  confined  to  the  small  boy ; 

it  is  but  partially  suppressed  in  his  elders, — and  that 
is  lucky,  for  his  elders,  and  their  horses,  can  often 
help. 

The  young  chauffeur  is  panicky  if  he  comes  to  a 
stop  on  a  lonely  road,  where  no  human  habitation  is 
visible ;  he  fears  he  may  never  get  away,  that  no  help 
will  come;  that  he  must  abandon  his  machine  and 
walk  miles  for  assistance.  The  old  chauffeur  knows 
better.  It  matters  not  to  him  how  lonely  the  road,  how 
remote  the  spot,  one  or  two  plaintive  blasts  of  the  horn 
and,  like  mushrooms,  human  beings  begin  to  spring 
up ;  whence  they  come  is  a  mystery  to  you ;  why  they 
come  equally  a  mystery  to  them,  but  come  they  will, 
and  to  help  they  are  willing,  to  the  harnessing  of 
horses  and  the  dragging  of  the  heavy  machine  to  such 
place  as  you  desire. 

to  help  This  willingness,  not  to  say  eagerness,  on  the  part 
of  the  farmer,  the  truckman,  the  liveryman,  in  short, 
the  owner  of  horses,  to  help  out  a  machine  he  despises, 
which  frightens  his  horses  and  causes  him  no  end  of 
trouble,  is  an  interesting  trait  of  human  nature ;  a  veri 
table  heaping  of  coals  of  fire.  So  long  as  the  machine 
is  careering  along  in  the  full  tide  of  glory,  clearing  and 
monopolizing  the  highway,  the  horse  owner  wishes 
it  in  Hades;  but  let  the  machine  get  into  trouble, 
and  the  same  horse  owner  will  pull  up  out  of  the  ditch 


Preliminary   Observations  i  3 

into  which  he  has  been  driven,  hitch  his  horses  to  the 
cause  of  his  scare,  haul  it  to  his  stable,  and  make  room 
by  turning  his  Sunday  carryall  into  the  lane,  and  four 
farmers,  three  truckmen,  and  two  liverymen  out  of  five 
will  refuse  all  offers  of  payment  for  their  trouble. 

But  how  galling  to  the  pride  of  the  automobilist  to   Humiliation 
see  a  pair  of  horses  patiently  pulling  his  machine  along 
the  highway,  and  how  he  fights  against  such  an  un 
natural  ending  of  a  day's  run. 

The  real  chauffeur,  the  man  who  knows  his  machine, 
who  can  run  it,  who  is  something  more  than  a  puller 
of  levers  and  a  twister  of  wheels,  will  not  seek  or  per 
mit  the  aid  of  horse  or  any  other  power,  except  where 
the  trouble  is  such  that  no  human  ingenuity  can  repair 
on  the  road. 

It  is  seldom  the  difficulty  is  such  that  repairs  can 
not  be  made  on  the  spot.  The  novice  looks  on  in  de 
spair,  the  experienced  driver  considers  a  moment, 
makes  use  of  the  tools  and  few  things  he  has  with  him, 
and  goes  on. 

It  is  astonishing  how  much  can  be  done  with  few  with  limited 
tools  and  practically  no  supplies.  A  packing  blows  ' 
out;  if  you  have  no  asbestos,  brown  paper,  or  even 
newspaper  saturated  with  oil,  will  do  for  the  time 
being;  if  a  wheel  has  to  be  taken  off,  a  fence-rail 
makes  an  excellent  jack;  if  a  chain  is  to  be  riveted, 
an  axe  or  even  a  stone  makes  a  good  dolly-bar  and 
your  wrench  an  excellent  riveting  hammer ;  if  screws, 
or  nuts,  or  bolts  drop  off, — and  they  do, — and  you 
have  no  extra,  a  glance  at  the  machine  is  sure  to  dis 
close  duplicates  that  can  be  removed  temporarily  to  the 
more  essential  places. 


On  an  Automobile 


The  hoodlum 


A  problem. 


Then,  too,  no  one  has  ever  exhausted  the  limitless 
resources  of  a  farmer's  wagon-shed.  In  it  you  find  the 
accumulations  of  generations,  bits  of  every  conceivable 
thing, — all  rusty,  of  course,  and  seemingly  worthless, 
but  sure  to  serve  your  purpose  on  a  pinch,  and  so  acces 
sible,  never  locked;  just  go  in  and  help  yourself. 
Nowadays  farmers  use  and  abuse  so  much  complicated 
machinery,  that  it  is  more  than  likely  one  could  con 
struct  entire  an  automobile  from  the  odds  and  ends  of 
a  half-dozen  farm-yards. 

All  boys  and  most  girls — under  twelve — say,  "  Gim 
me  a  ride ;"  some  boys  and  a  few  girls — over  twelve — 
say,  "  You  look  lonesome,  mister."  What  the  hoodlums 
of  the  cities  say  will  hardly  bear  repetition.  In  spite  of 
its  swiftness  the  automobile  offers  opportunities  for 
studying  human  nature  appreciated  only  by  the  driver. 

The  city  hoodlum  is  a  most  aggressive  individual ; 
he  is  not  invariably  in  tattered  clothes,  and  is  by  no 
means  confined  to  the  alleys  and  side  streets.  The 
hoodlum  element  is  a  constituent  part  of  human  na 
ture,  present  in  every  one;  the  classification  of  the 
individual  depending  simply  upon  the  depth  at  which 
the  turbulent  element  is  buried,  upon  the  number  and 
thickness  of  the  overlying  strata  of  civilization  and 
refinement.  In  the  recognized  hoodlum  the  obnoxious 
element  is  quite  at  the  surface ;  in  the  best  of  us  it  is 
only  too  apt  to  break  forth, — no  man  can  be  considered 
an  absolutely  extinct  volcano. 

One  can  readily  understand  why  owners  and  drivers 
of  horses  should  feel  and  even  exhibit  a  marked  aver 
sion  towards  the  automobile,  since,  from  their  stand- 


Preliminary  Observations  15 

point,  it  is  an  unmitigated  nuisance;  but  why  the 
hoodlums  who  stand  about  the  street  corners  should  be 
animated  by  a  seemingly  irresistible  desire  to  hurl 
stones  and  brickbats — as  well  as  epithets — at  passing 
automobiles  is  a  mystery  worth  solving ;  it  presents  an 
interesting  problem  in  psychology.  What  is  the  mental 
process  occasioned  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  an 
automobile,  and  which  results  in  the  hurling  of  the 
first  missile  which  comes  to  hand?  It  must  be  a  re 
version  to  savage  instincts,  the  instinct  of  the  chase; 
something  strange  comes  quickly  into  view;  it  makes 
a  strange  noise,  emits,  perhaps,  a  strange  odor,  is  pass 
ing  quickly  and  about  to  escape;  it  must  be  killed, 
hence  the  brickbat.  Uncontrollable  impulse!  poor 
hoodlum,  he  cannot  help  it;  if  he  could  restrain  the 
hand  and  stay  the  brickbat  he  \vould  not  be  a  hood 
lum,  but  a  man.  Time  and  custom  have  tamed  him  so 
that  he  lets  horses,  bicycles,  and  carriages  pass;  he 
can't  quite  help  slinging  a  stone  at  an  advertising  van 
or  any  strange  vehicle,  while  the  automobile  is  alto 
gether  too  much. 

That  it  is  the  machine  which  rouses  his  savage  in 
stincts  is  clear  from  the  fact  that  rarely  is  anything 
thrown  at  the  occupants.  Complete  satisfaction  is 
found  in  hitting  the  thing  itself;  no  doubt  regret 
would  be  felt  if  any  one  were  injured,  but  if  the  stone 
resounds  upon  the  iron  frame  of  the  moving  devil,  the 
satisfaction  is  felt  that  the  best  of  us  might  experience 
from  hitting  the  scaly  sides  of  a  slumbering  sea- 
monster,  for  hit  him  we  would,  though  at  immediate 
risk  of  perdition. 


1 6  On  an  Automobile 

varieties  of  The  American  hoodlum  has,  withal,  his  good  points. 

If  you  are  not  in  trouble,  he  will  revile  and  stone  you; 
if  in  trouble,  he  will  commiserate  and  assist.  He  is 
quick  to  put  his  shoulder  to  the  wheel  and  push,  pull 
or  lift ;  often  with  mechanical  insight  superior  to  the 
unfortunate  driver  he  will  discern  the  difficulty  and 
suggest  the  remedy;  dirt  has  no  terrors  for  him,  oil 
is  his  delight,  grease  the  goal  of  his  desires;  mind 
you,  all  this  concerns  the  American  hoodlum  or  the 
hoodlum  of  indefinite  or  of  Irish  extraction ;  it  applies 
not  to  the  Teutonic  or  other  hoodlum.  He  will  pass 
you  by  with  phlegmatic  indifference,  he  will  not  throw 
things  at  you,  neither  will  he  help  you  unless  strongly 
appealed  to,  and  then  not  over-zealously  or  over-in- 
telligently ;  his  application  is  short-lived  and  he  hurries 
on ;  but  the  other  hoodlum  will  stay  with  you  all  night 
if  necessary,  finding,  no  doubt,  the  automobile  a  pleas 
ant  diversion  from  a  bed  on  the  grass. 

The  root  of  evil  But  the  dissension  a  quarter  will  cause!  A  battle 
royal  was  once  produced  by  a  dollar.  They  had  all 
assisted,  but,  like  the  workers  in  the  vineyard,  some 
had  come  early  and  some  late.  The  automobile,  in 
trying  to  turn  on  a  narrow  road,  had  dropped  off  the 
side  into  low  wet  ground ;  the  early  comers  could  not 
quite  get  it  back,  but  with  the  aid  of  the  later  it  was 
done;  the  division  of  a  dollar  left  behind  raised  the 
old,  old  problem.  Unhappily,  it  fell  into  the  hands  of 
a  late  comer  for  distribution,  and  it  was  his  contention 
that  the  final  lift  did  the  work,  that  all  previous  effort 
was  so  much  wasted  energy;  the  early  comers  con 
tended  that  the  reward  should  be  in  proportion  to 


Preliminary   Observations  i  7 

expenditure  of  time  and  muscle  and  not  measured  by 
actual  achievement, — a  discussion  not  without  force  on 
both  sides,  but  cut  short  by  a  scrimmage  involving 
far  more  force  than  the  discussion.  All  of  which  goes 
to  show  the  disturbing  influence  of  money,  for  in  all 
truth  those  who  had  assisted  did  not  expect  any  re 
ward  ;  they  first  laughed  to  see  the  machine  in  the 
ditch,  and  then  turned  to  like  tigers  to  get  it  out. 

This  whole  question  of  paying  for  services  in  con-  Paying fo> 
nection  with  automobiling  is  as  interesting  as  it  is  new.  services 
The  people  are  not  adjusted  to  the  strange  vehicle.  A 
man  with  a  white  elephant  could  probably  travel  from 
New  York  to  San  Francisco  without  disbursing  a 
penny  for  the  keeping  of  his  animal.  Farmers  and 
even  liverymen  would  keep  and  feed  it  on  the  way  with 
out  charge.  It  is  a  good  deal  so  with  an  automobile; 
it  is  still  sufficiently  a  curiosity  to  command  respect 
and  attention.  The  farmer  is  glad  to  have  it  stop  in 
front  of  his  door  or  put  up  in  his  shed ;  he  will  supply 
it  with  oil  and  water.  The  blacksmith  would  rather 
have  it  stop  at  his  shop  for  repair  than  at  his  rival's, 
— it  gives  him  a  little  notoriety,  something  to 'talk 
about.  So  it  is  with  the  liveryman  at  night;  he  is, 
as  a  rule,  only  too  glad  to  have  the  novelty  under  his 
roof,  and  takes  pride  in  showing  it  to  the  visiting 
townsfolk.  They  do  not  know  what  to  charge,  and 
therefore  charge  nothing.  It  is  often  with  difficulty 
anything  can  be  forced  upon  them;  they  are  quite 
averse  to  accepting  gratuities ;  meanwhile,  the  farmer, 
whose  horse  and  cart  have  taken  up  far  less  room  and 
caused  far  less  trouble,  pays  the  fixed  charge. 

These  conditions  prevail  only  in  localities  where  au- 


i8 


On  an  Automobile 


The  real 
chauffeur 


The  sham 
chauffeur 


tomobiles  are  seen  infrequently.  Along  the  highways 
where  they  travel  frequently  all  is  quite  changed ; 
many  a  stable  will  not  house  them  at  any  price,  and 
those  that  will,  charge  goodly  sums  for  the  service. 

It  is  one  thing  to  own  an  automobile,  another  thing 
to  operate  it.  It  is  one  thing  to  sit  imposingly  at  the 
steering-wheel  until  something  goes  wrong,  and  quite 
another  thing  to  repair  and  go  on. 

There  are  chauffeurs  and  chauffeurs, — the  latter 
wear  the  paraphernalia  and  are  photographed,  while 
the  former  are  working  under  the  machines.  You  can 
tell  the  difference  by  the  goggles.  The  sham  chauf 
feur  sits  in  front  and  turns  the  wheel,  the  real  sits 
behind  and  takes  things  as  they  come;  the  former 
wears  the  goggles,  the  latter  finds  sufficient  protection 
in  the  smut  on  the  end  of  his  nose. 


The  expert 
mechanic 


There  is  every  excuse  for  relying  helplessly  on  an 
expert  mechanic  if  you  have  no  mechanical  ingenuity, 
or  are  averse  to  getting  dirty  and  grimy ;  but  that  is 
not  automobiling ;  it  is  being  run  about  in  a  huge 
perambulator. 

The  real  chauffeur  knows  every  moment  by  the 
sound  and  "  feel"  of  his  machine  exactly  what  it  is 
doing,  the  amount  of  gasoline  it  is  taking,  whether  the 
lubrication  is  perfect,  the  character  and  heat  of  the 
spark,  the  condition  of  almost  every  screw,  nut,  and 
bolt,  and  he  runs  his  machine  accordingly ;  at  the  first 
indication  of  anything  wrong  he  stops  and  takes  the 
stitch  in  time  that  saves  ninety  and  nine  later.  The 
sham  chauffeur  sits  at  the  wheel,  and  in  the  security 


Preliminary  Observations  19 

of  ignorance  runs  gayly  along-  until  his  machine  is  a 
wreck;  he  may  have  hours,  days,  or  even  weeks  of 
blind  enjoyment,  but  the  end  is  inevitable,  and  the  re 
pairs  costly;  then  he  blames  every  one  but  himself, 
— blames  the  maker  for  not  making  a  machine  that 
may  be  operated  by  inexperience  forever,  blames  the 
men  in  his  stable  for  what  reason  he  knows  not,  blames 
the  roads,  the  country,  everything  and  everybody — but 
himself. 

It   is   amusing   to   hear   the   sham   chauffeur   talk.   Distributing 

the  credit 

When  things  go  well,  he  does  it ;  when  they  go  wrong, 
it  is  the  fault  of  some  one  else ;  if  he  makes  a  success 
ful  run,  the  mechanic  with  him  is  a  nonentity;  if  he 
breaks  down,  the  mechanic  is  his  only  resource.  It  is 
more  interesting  to  hear  the  mechanic — the  real  chauf 
feur — talk  when  he  is  flat  on  his  back  making  good 
the  mistakes  of  his  master,  but  his  conversation  could 
not  be  printed  verbatim  et  literatim, — it  is  explosive 
and  without  a  muffler. 

The  man  who  cannot  run  his  machine  a  thousand 
miles  without  expert  assistance  should  make  no  pre 
tense  to  being  a  chauffeur,  for  he  is  not  one.  The 
chauffeur  may  use  mechanics  whenever  he  can  find 
them;  but  if  he  can't  find  them,  he  gets  along  just  as 
well ;  and  when  he  does  use  them  it  is  not  for  informa 
tion  and  advice,  but  to  do  just  the  things  he  wants 
done  and  no  more.  The  skilled  enthusiast  would  not 
think  of  letting  even  an  expert  from  the  factory  do 
anything  to  his  machine,  unless  he  stood  over  him  and 
watched  every  movement;  as  soon  would  a  lover  of 
horses  permit  his  hostlers  to  dope  his  favorite  mount. 


-mm  % 


v^ 


MASCiNG  PEAiJv"  TC  ST^ 


CHAPTER   TWO 

THE    MACHINE    USED 


The  horse 
power 


THE  machine  was  just  an  ordinary  twelve  hundred 
dollar  single-cylinder  American  machine,  with  neither 
improvements  nor  attachments  to  especially  strengthen 
it  for  a  long  tour ;  and  it  had  seen  constant  service 
since  January  without  any  return  to  the  shop  for  re 
pairs. 

It  was  rated  eight  and  one-half  horse-power;  but, 
as  every  one  knows,  American  machines  are  overrated 
as  a  rule,  while  foreign  machines  are  greatly  under 
rated.  A  twelve  horse-power  American  machine  may 
mean  not  more  than  eight  or  ten ;  a  twelve  horse- 
20 


The   Machine  Used  21 

power  French  machine,  with  its  four  cylinders,  means 
not  less  than  sixteen. 

The  foreign  manufacturer  appreciates  the  advantage 
of  having  it  said  that  his  eight  horse-power  machine 
will  run  faster  and  climb  better  than  the  eight  horse 
power  machine  of  a  rival  maker ;  hence  the  tendency 
to  increase  the  power  without  changing  the  nominal 
rating.  The  American  manufacturer  caters  to  the  de 
mand  of  his  customers  for  machines  of  high  power  by 
advancing  the  nominal  rating  quite  beyond  the  power 
actually  developed. 

But  already  things  are  changing  here,  and  makers 
show  a  disposition  to  rate  their  machines  low,  for  the 
sake  of  astonishing  in  performance.  A  man  dislikes  to 
admit  his  machine  is  rated  at  forty  horse-power  and  to 
acknowledge  defeat  by  a  machine  rated  at  twenty,  when 
the  truth  is  that  each  machine  is  probably  about  thirty. 

The  tendency  at  the  present  moment  is  decidedly    The  French 
towards    the    French    type, — two    or    four    cylinders    y  e 
placed  in  front. 

In  the  construction  of  racing-cars  and  high-speed 
machines  for  such  roads  as  they  have  on  the  other 
side,  we  have  much  to  learn  from  the  French, — and  we 
have  been  slow  in  learning  it.  The  conceit  of  the 
American  mechanic  amounts  often  to  blind  stubborn 
ness,  but  the  ease  with  which  the  foreign  machines 
have  passed  the  American  in  all  races  on  smooth  roads 
has  opened  the  eyes  of  our  builders;  the  danger  just 
now  is  that  they  will  go  to  the  other  extreme  and  copy 
too  blindly. 


22  On  an  Automobile 

In  the  hands  of  experts,  the  foreign  racing-cars  are 
the  most  perfect  road  locomotives  yet  devised;  for 
touring  over  American  roads  in  the  hands  of  the  ama 
teur  they  are  worse  than  useless;  and  even  experts 
have  great  difficulty  in  running  week  in  and  week  out 
without  serious  breaks  and  delays.  To  use  a  slang 
phrase,  "  They  will  not  stand  the  racket."  However 
"  stunning"  they  look  on  asphalt  and  macadam  with 
their  low,  rakish  bodies,  resplendent  in  red  and 
polished  brass,  on  country  roads  they  are  very  fre 
quently  failures.  A  thirty  horse-power  foreign  ma 
chine  costing  ten  or  twelve  thousand  dollars,  accom 
panied  by  one  or  more  expert  mechanics,  may  make  a 
brilliant  showing  for  a  week  or  so ;  but  when  the  time 
is  up,  the  ordinary,  cheap,  country-looking,  American 
automobile  will  be  found  a  close  second  at  the  finish  ; 
not  that  it  is  a  finer  piece  of  machinery,  for  it  is  not ; 
but  it  has  been  developed  under  the  adverse  condi 
tions  prevailing  in  this  country  and  is  built  to  sur 
mount  them.  The  maker  in  this  country  who  runs  his 
machine  one  hundred  miles  from  his  factory,  would 
find  fewer  difficulties  between  Paris  and  Berlin. 

The  temptation  is  great  to  purchase  a  foreign  ma 
chine  on  sight;  resist  the  temptation  until  you  have 
ridden  in  it  over  a  hundred  miles  of  sandy,  clayey,  and 
hilly  American  roads;  you  may  then  defer  the  pur 
chase  indefinitely,  unless  you  expect  to  carry  along  a 
man. 
The  Machine  for  machine,  regardless  of  price,  the  com- 

companson  .  .,1111  •          r 

parison  is  debatable ;    but  price  for  price,  there  is  no 
comparison  whatsoever ;   in  fact,  there  is  no  inexpen- 


The   Machine   Used  23 

sive  imported  machine  which  compares  for  a  moment 
with  the  American  product. 

A  single-cylinder  motor  possesses  a  few  great  ad-    The  single 

cylinder 

vantages  to  compensate  for  many  disadvantages;  it 
has  fewer  parts  to  get  out  of  order,  and  troubles  can 
be  much  more  quickly  located  and  overcome.  Two, 
three,  and  four  cylinders  run  with  less  vibration  and 
are  better  in  every  way,  except  that  with  every  cylinder 
added  the  chances  of  troubles  are  multiplied,  and  the 
difficulty  of  locating  them  increased.  Each  cylinder 
must  have  its  own  lubrication,  its  ignition,  intake,  and 
exhaust  mechanisms, — the  quartette  that  is  responsible 
for  nine-tenths  of  the  stops. 

Beyond  eight  or  ten  horse-power  the  single  cylinder 
is  hardly  practicable.  The  kick  from  the  explosion  is 
too  violent,  the  vibration  and  strain  too  great,  and 
power  is  lost  in  transmission.  But  up  to  eight  or  ten 
horse-power  the  single-cylinder  motor  with  a  heavy 
fly-wheel  is  practicable,  runs  very  smoothly  at  high 
speeds,  mounts  hills  and  ploughs  mud  quite  success 
fully.  The  American  ten  horse-power  single-cylinder 
motor  will  go  faster  and  farther  on  our  roads  than 
most  foreign  double-cylinder  machines  of  the  same 
horse-power.  It  will  last  longer  and  require  less 
repairs. 

The  amateur  who  is   not  a  pretty  good  mechanic   For  the 

amateur 

and  who  wishes  to  tour  without  the  assistance  of  an 
expert  will  do  well  to  use  the  single-cylinder  motor; 
he  will  have  trouble  enough  with  that  without  seeking 
further  complications  by  the  adoption  of  multiple 
cylinders. 


24  On  an  Automobile 

It  is  quite  practicable  to  attain  speeds  of  from  twenty 
to  thirty  miles  per  hour  with  a  single-cylinder  motor, 
but  for  bad  roads  and  hilly  countries  a  low  gear  with 
a  maximum  of  twenty  to  twenty-five  miles  per  hour 
is  better.  The  average  for  the  day  will  be  higher  be 
cause  better  speed  is  maintained  through  heavy  roads 
and  on  up  grades. 

Tires  So  far  as  resiliency  is  concerned,  there  is  no  com 

parison  between  the  French  double-tube  tire  and  the 
heavy  American  single  tube, — the  former  is  far  ahead, 
and  is,  of  course,  easily  repaired  on  the  road,  but  it 
does  not  seem  to  stand  the  severe  wear  of  American 
roads,  and  it  is  very  easily  punctured.  Our  highways 
both  in  and  out  of  cities  are  filled  with  things  that  cut, 
and  bristle  with  wire-nails.  The  heavy  American 
single-tube  tire  holds  out  quite  well;  it  gets  many 
deep  cuts  and  takes  nails  like  a  pin-cushion,  but  com 
paratively  few  go  through.  The  weight  of  the  tire 
makes  it  rather  hard  riding,  very  hard,  indeed,  as 
compared  with  a  fine  Michelin. 

Luggage  There  are  many  devices  for  carrying  luggage,  but 

for  getting  a  good  deal  into  a  small  compass  there  is 
nothing  equal  to  a  big  Scotch  hold-all.  It  is  water 
proof  to  begin  with,  and  holds  more  than  a  small 
steamer-trunk.  It  can  be  strapped  in  or  under  the 
machine  anywhere.  Trunks  and  hat-boxes  may  remain 
with  the  express  companies,  always  within  a  few 
hours'  call. 

clothes  What  to  wear  is  something  of  a  problem.  In  late 

autumn  and  winter  fur  is  absolutely  essential  to  com 
fort.  Even  at  fifteen  or  twentv  miles  an  hour  the  wind 


The   Machine  Used  25 

is  penetrating  and  goes  through  everything  but  the 
closest  of  fur.  For  women,  fur  or  leather-lined  coats 
are  comfortable  even  when  the  weather  seems  still 
quite  warm. 

Leather  coats  are  a  great  protection  against  both  Leather 
cold  and  dust.  Unhappily,  most  people  who  have  no 
machines  of  their  own,  when  invited  to  ride,  have 
nothing  fit  to  wear;  they  dress  too  thinly,  wear  hats 
that  blow  off,  and  they  altogether  are,  and  look,  quite 
unhappy — to  the  great  discomfort  of  those  with  them. 
It  is  not  a  bad  plan  to  have  available  one  or  two  good 
warm  coats  for  the  benefit  of  guests,  and  always  carry 
water-proof  coats  and  lap-covers.  In  emergency,  thin 
black  oil-cloth,  purchasable  at  any  country  store,  makes 
a  good  water-proof  covering. 

Whoever  is  running  a  machine  must  be  prepared  for    The 
emergencies,  for  at  any  moment  it  may  be  necessary   chauffeur's 
to  get  underneath. 

The  man  who  is  going  to  master  his  own  machine 
must  expect  to  get  dirty;  dust,  oil,  and  grime  plenti 
fully  distributed, — but  dirt  is  picturesque,  even  if  ob 
jectionable.  Character  is  expressed  in  dirt ;  the  bright 
and  shining  school-boy  face  is  devoid  of  interest,  an 
artificial  product,  quite  unnatural;  the  smutty  street 
urchin  is  an  actor  on  life's  stage,  every  daub,  spot,  and 
line  an  essential  part  of  his  make-up. 

The  spic  and  span  may  go  well  with  a  coach  and 
four,  but  not  with  the  automobile.  Imagine  an  engi 
neer  driving  his  locomotive  in  blue  coat,  yellow  waist 
coat,  and  ruffles, — quite  as  appropriate  as  a  fastidious 
dress  on  the  automobile. 


26  On  an  Automobile 

People  are  not  yet  quite  accustomed  to  the  grime 
of  automobiling ;  they  tolerate  the  dust  of  the  golf 
links,  the  dirt  of  base-ball  and  cricket,  the  mud  of 
foot-ball,  and  would  ridicule  the  man  who  failed  to 
dress  appropriately  for  those  games,  but  the  me 
chanic's  blouse  or  leather  coat  of  automobiling,  the 
gloves  saturated  with  oil — these  are  comparatively 
unfamiliar  sights ;  hence  men  are  seen  starting  off 
for  a  hard  run  in  ducks  and  serges,  sacks,  cutaways, 
even  frocks,  and  hats  of  all  styles;  give  a  farmer  a 
silk  hat  and  patent  leather  boots  to  wear  while  thresh 
ing,  and  he  would  match  them. 

Every  sport  has  its  own  appropriate  costume,  and 
the  costume  is  not  the  result  of  arbitrary  choice,  but 
of  natural  selection ;  if  we  hunt,  fish,  or  play  any  out 
door  game,  sooner  or  later  we  find  ourselves  dressing 
like  our  associates.  The  tenderfoot  may  put  on  his 
cowboy's  suit  a  little  too  soon  and  look  and  be  very 
uncomfortable,  but  the  costume  is  essential  to  success 
in  the  long  run. 

The  Russian  cap  so  commonly  seen  is  an  affectation, 
— it  catches  the  wind  and  is  far  from  comfortable. 
The  best  head  covering  is  a  closely  fitting  Scotch  cap. 


SS THIS  THE   ROAD   TO 


CHAPTER   THREE 

THE    START 


THE  trip  was  not  premeditated  —  it  was  not  of 
malice  aforethought;  it  was  the  outcome  of  an  idle 
suggestion  made  one  hot  summer  afternoon,  and  de 
cided  upon  in  the  moment.  Within  the  same  half- 
hour  a  telegram  was  sent  the  Professor  inviting  him 
for  a  ride  to  Buffalo.  Beyond  that  point  there  was 
no  thought,  —  merely  a  nebulous  notion  that  might  take 
form  if  everything  went  well. 

Hampered  by  no  announcements,  with  no  record  to 
make  or  break,  the  trip  was  for  pleasure,  —  a  mid 
summer  jaunt.  We  did  intend  to  make  the  run  to 

27 


A  ""^ 


28  On  an  Automobile 

Buffalo  as  fast  as  roads  would  permit, — but  for  ex 
hilaration  only,  and  not  with  any  thought  of  making 
a  record  that  would  stand  against  record-making 
machines,  driven  by  record-breaking  men. 

It  is  much  better  to  start  for  nowhere  and  get 
there  than  to  start  for  somewhere  and  fall  by  the 
wayside.  Just  keep  going,  and  the  machine  will  carry 
you  beyond  your  expectations. 

where  The  Professor  knew  nothing  about  machinery  and 

ignorance  is  ......  .... 

bliss  less  about  an  automobile,  but  where  ignorance  is  bliss 

it  is  double-distilled  folly  to  know  anything  about  the 
eccentricities  of  an  automobile. 

To  enjoy  automobiling,  one  must  know  either  all  or 
nothing  about  the  machine, — a  little  knowledge  is  a 
dangerous  thing;  on  the  part  of  the  guest  it  leads  to 
all  sorts  of  apprehensions,  on  the  part  of  the  chauffeur 
to  all  sorts  of  experiments.  About  five  hundred  miles 
is  the  limit  of  a  man's  ignorance;  he  then  knows 
enough  to  make  trouble;  at  the  end  of  another  five 
hundred  he  is  of  assistance,  at  the  end  of  the  third  he 
will  run  the  machine  himself — your  greatest  pleasure 
is  in  the  first  five  hundred.  With  some  precocious 
individuals  these  figures  may  be  reduced  somewhat. 

The  The  Professor  adjusted  his  spectacles  and  looked  at 

Professor's 

first  impression  the  machine : 

"  A  very  wonderful  contrivance,  and  one  that  re 
quires  some  skill  to  operate.  From  lack  of  experience, 
I  cannot  hope  to  be  of  much  practical  assistance  at 
first,  but  possibly  a  theoretical  knowledge  of  the  laws 
and  principles  governing  things  mechanical  may  be  of 
service  in  an  emergency.  Since  receiving  your  tele- 


The  Start  29 

gram,  I  have  brushed  up  a  little  my  knowledge  of  both 
kinematics  and  dynamics,  though  it  is  quite  apparent 
that  the  operation  of  these  machines,  accompanied,  as 
it  is  said,  by  many  restraints  and  perturbations,  falls 
under  the  latter  branch.  In  view  of  the  possibility- 
remote,  I  trust — of  the  machine  refusing  to  go,  I  have 
devoted  a  little  time  to  statics,  and  therefore  feel  that 
I  shall  be  something  more  than  a  supercargo." 

"  Well,  you  are  equipped,  Professor ;  no  doubt  your 
knowledge  will  prove  useful." 

"  Knowledge  is  always  useful  if  people  in  this  busy 
age  would  only  pause  to  make  use  of  it.  Mechanics 
has  been  defined  as  the  application  of  pure  mathe 
matics  to  produce  or  modify  motion  in  inferior  bodies ; 
what  could  be  more  apt  ?  Is  it  not  our  intention  to  pro 
duce  or  modify  motion  in  this  inferior  body  before  us  ?" 

Days  after  the  Professor  found  the  crank  a  more 
useful  implement  for  the  inducing  of  motion. 

It  was  Thursday  morning,  August  I,  at  exactly 
seven  o'clock,  that  we  passed  south  on  Michigan  Ave 
nue  towards  South  Chicago  and  Hammond.  A  glori 
ous  morning,  neither  hot  nor  cold,  but  just  deliciously 
cool,  with  some  promise — afterwards  more  than  ful 
filled — of  a  warm  day. 

The  hour  was  early,  policemen  few,  streets  clear, 
hence  fast  speed  could  be  made. 

As  we  passed  Zion  Temple,  near  Twelfth  Street,  the 
home  of  the  Dowieites,  the  Professor  said: 

"  A  very  remarkable  man,  that  Dowie." 

"  A  fraud  and  an  impostor,"  I  retorted,  reflecting 
current  opinion. 


3° 


On  an   Automobile 


"  Possibly ;  but  we  all  impose  more  or  less  upon  one 
another ;  he  has  simply  made  a  business  of  his  imposi 
tion.  Did  you  ever  meet  him?" 

"  No ;   it's  hardly  worth  while/' 

"  It  is  worth  while  to  meet  any  man  who  influences 
or  controls  a  considerable  body  of  his  fellow-men. 
The  difference  between  Mohammed  and  Joseph  Smith 
is  of  degree  rather  than  kind.  Dowie  is  down  towards 
the  small  end  of  the  scale,  but  he  is  none  the  less  there, 
and  differs  in  kind  from  your  average  citizen  in  his 
power  to  influence  and  control  others.  I  crossed  the 
lake  with  him  one  night  and  spent  the  evening  in  con 
versation." 

"  What  are  your  impressions  of  the  man  ?" 

"  A  shrewd,  hard-headed,  dogmatic  Scotchman, — 
who  neither  smokes  nor  drinks." 

"  Who  calls  himself  Elijah  come  to  earth  again." 

"  I  had  the  temerity  to  ask  him  concerning  his  pre 
tensions  in  that  direction,  and  he  said,  substantially, 
'  I  make  no  claims  or  assertions,  but  the  Bible  says 
Elijah  will  return  to  earth;  it  does  not  say  in  what 
form  or  how  he  will  manifest  himself ;  he  might  choose 
your  personality ;  he  might  choose  mine ;  he  has  not 
chosen  yours,  there  are  some  evidences  that  he  has 
chosen  mine." 

"  Proof  most  conclusive." 

"  It  satisfies  his  followers.  After  all,  perhaps  it  does 
not  matter  so  much  what  we  believe  as  how  we  believe/' 
Another  tempie  A  few  moments  later  we  were  passing  the  new 
Christian  Science  Temple  on  Drexel  Boulevard, — a 
building  quite  simple  and  delightful,  barring  some 
garish  lamps  in  front. 


The  Start  31 

"  There  is  another  latter-day  sect,"  said  the  Pro 
fessor  ;  "  one  of  the  phenomena  of  the  nineteenth  cen 
tury." 

"  You  would  not  class  them  with  the  Dowieites?" 
"  By  no  means,  but  an  interesting  part  of  a  large 
whole  which  embraces  at  one  extreme  the  Dowieites. 
The  connecting  link  is  faith.  But  the  very  architecture 
of  the  temple  we  have  just  passed  illustrates  the  vast 
interval  that  separates  the  two." 

"  Then  you  judge  a  sect  by  its  buildings?" 
"  Every  faith  has  its  own  architecture.     The  temple 
at  Karnak  and  the  tabernacle  at  Salt  Lake  City  are 
petrifactions  of  faith.     In  time  the  places  of  worship 
are  the  only  tangible  remains — witness  Stonehenge." 

Chicago  boasts  the  things  she  has  not  and  slights   Lake 
the  things  she  has;    she  talks  of  everything  but  the   and  bo«levfl*'ds 
lake  and  her  broad  and  almost  endless  boulevards,  yet 
these  are  her  chief  glories. 

For  miles  and  miles  and  miles  one  can  travel  boule 
vards  upon  which  no  traffic  teams  are  allowed.  From 
Fort  Sheridan,  twenty-five  miles  north,  to  far  below 
Jackson  Park  to  the  south  there  is  an  unbroken 
stretch.  Some  day  Sheridan  Road  will  extend  to 
Milwaukee,  ninety  miles  from  Chicago. 

One  may  reach  Jackson  Park,  the  old  World's  Fair 
site,  by  three  fine  boulevards, — Michigan,  broad  and 
straight ;  Drexel,  with  its  double  driveways  and  banks 
of  flowers,  trees,  and  shrubbery  between ;  Grand,  with 
its  three  driveways,  and  so  wide  one  cannot  recognize 
an  acquaintance  on  the  far  side,  cannot  even  see  the 
policeman  frantically  motioning  to  slow  down. 


32  On   an  Automobile 

TO  Hammond  it  does  not  matter  which  route  is  taken  to  the  Park, 
the  good  roads  end  there.  We  missed  our  way,  and 
went  eighteen  miles  to  Hammond,  over  miles  of  poor 
pavement  and  unfinished  roads.  That  was  a  pull 
which  tried  nerves  and  temper, — to  find  at  the  end 
there  was  another  route  which  involved  but  a  short 
distance  of  poor  going.  It  is  all  being  improved,  and 
soon  there  will  be  a  good  road  to  Hammond. 

Through  Indiana  from  Hammond  to  Hobart  the 
road  is  macadamized  and  in  perfect  condition ;  we 
reached  Hobart  at  half-past  nine ;  no  stop  was  made. 
At  Crocker  two  pails  of  water  were  added  to  the  cool 
ing  tank. 

At  Porter  the  road  was  lost  for  a  second  time, — 
exasperating.  At  Chesterton  four  gallons  of  gasoline 
were  taken  and  a  quick  run  made  to  Burdick. 

Roads  are  fair  The  roads  are  now  not  so  good, — not  bad,  but  just 
good  country  roads,  some  stretches  of  gravel,  but  gen 
erally  clay,  with  some  sand  here  and  there.  The  coun 
try  is  rolling,  but  no  steep  hills. 

A  uttie  rusty  up  to  this  time  the  machine  had  required  no  atten 
tion,  but  just  beyond  Otis,  while  stopping  to  inquire 
the  way,  we  discovered  a  rusty  round  nail  embedded 
to  the  head  in  the  right  rear  tire.  The  tire  showed 
no  signs  of  deflation,  but  on  drawing  the  nail  the 
air  followed,  showing  a  puncture.  As  the  nail  was 
scarcely  three-quarters  of  an  inch  long, — not  long 
enough  to  go  clear  through  and  injure  the  inner 
coating  on  the  opposite  side, — it  was  entirely  practical 
to  reinsert  and  run  until  it  worked  out.  A  very  fair 


The  Start 


33 


temporary  repair  might  have  been  made  by  first  dip 
ping  the  nail  in  a  tire  cement,  but  the  nail  was  rusty 
and  stuck  very  well. 

An  hour  later,  at  La  Porte,  the  nail  was  still  doing 
good  service  and  no  leak  could  be  detected.  We  wired 
back  to  Chicago  to  have  an  extra  tire  sent  on  ahead. 

From  Chicago  to  La  Porte,  by  way  of  Hobart,  the 
roads  are  excellent,  excepting  always  the  few  miles 
near  South  Chicago.  Keep  to  the  south — even  as  far 
south  as  Valparaiso — rather  than  to  the  north,  near 
the  lake.  The  roads  are  hilly  and  sandy  near  the  lake. 

Beware  the  so-called  road  map;  it  is  a  snare  and  a  Road  maps 
delusion.  A  road  which  seems  most  seductive  on  the 
bicycler's  road  map  may  be  a  sea  of  sand  or  a  veri 
table  quagmire,  but  with  a  fine  bicycle  path  at  the 
side.  As  you  get  farther  east  these  cinder  paths  are 
protected  by  law,  with  heavy  fines  for  driving  thereon ; 
it  requires  no  little  restraint  to  plough  miles  and  miles 
through  bottomless  mud  on  a  narrow  road  in  the  Mo 
hawk  valley  with  a  superb  three-foot  cinder  path 
against  your  very  wheels.  The  machine  of  its  own 
accord  will  climb  up  now  and  then;  it  requires  all 
the  vigilance  of  a  law-abiding  driver  to  keep  it  in 
the  mud.  where  it  is  so  unwilling  to  travel. 

So  far  as  finding  and  keeping  the  road  is  concerned,   Keeping  the 
— and  it  is  a  matter  of  great  concern  in  this  vast  coun-   road 
try,  where  roads,  cross-roads,  forks,  and  all  sorts  of 
snares  and  delusions  abound  without  sign-boards  to 
point  the  way, — the  following  directions  may  be  given 
once  for  all : 

If  the  proposed  route  is  covered  by  any  automobile 
3 


34  On  an  Automobile 

hand-book  or  any  automobile  publication,  get  it,  carry 
it  with  you  and  be  guided  by  it ;  all  advice  of  ancient 
inhabitants  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding. 

If  there  is  no  publication  covering  the  route,  take 
pains  to  get  from  local  automobile  sources  informa 
tion  about  the  several  possible  routes  to  the  principal 
towns  which  you  wish  to  make. 

If  you  can  get  no  information  at  all  from  automobile 
sources,  you  can  make  use — with  great  caution — of 
bicycle  road  maps,  of  the  maps  rather  than  the  red- 
lined  routes. 

About  the  safest  course  is  to  spread  out  the  map 
and  run  a  straight  line  between  the  principal  points  on 
the  proposed  route,  note  the  larger  villages,  towns, 
and  cities  near  the  line  so  drawn,  make  a  list  of  them 
in  the  order  they  come  from  the  starting-point,  and 
simply  inquire  at  each  of  these  points  for  the  best 
road  to  the  next. 

If  the  list  includes  places  of  fair  size, — say,  from 
one  to  ten  or  twenty  thousand  inhabitants,  it  is  reason 
ably  certain  that  the  roads  connecting  such  places  will 
be  about  as  good  as  there  are  in  the  vicinity ;  now  and 
then  a  better  road  may  be  missed,  but,  in  the  long  run, 
that  does  not  matter  much,  and  the  advantage  of 
keeping  quite  close  to  the  straight  line  tells  in  the  way 
of  mileage. 

It  is  usually  worse  than  useless  to  inquire  in  any 
place  about  the  roads  beyond  a  radius  of  fifteen  or 
twenty  miles;  plenty  of  answers  to  all  questions  will 
be  forthcoming,  but  they  simply  mislead.  In  these 
days  of  railroads,  farmers  no  longer  make  long  over 
land  drives. 


The  Start  35 

It  is  much  easier  to  get  information  in  small  vil 
lages  than  in  cities.  In  a  city  about  all  one  can  learn 
is  how  to  get  out  by  the  shortest  cut.  Once  out,  the 
first  farmer  will  give  information  about  the  roads 
beyond. 

In  wet  weather  the  last  question  will  be,  "Is  the 
road  clayey  or  bottomless  anywhere?"  In  dry  weather, 
"  Is  there  any  deep,  soft  sand,  and  are  there  any  sand 
hills?" 

The  judgment  of  a  man  who  is  looking  at  the  ma 
chine  while  he  is  giving  information  is  biased  by  the 
impressions  as  to  what  the  machine  can  do;  make 
allowances  for  this  and  get,  if  possible,  an  accurate 
description  of  the  condition  of  any  road  which  is  pro 
nounced  impassable,  for  you  alone  know  what  the 
machine  can  do,  and  many  a  road  others  think  you 
cannot  cover  is  made  with  ease. 

To  the  farmer  the  automobile  is  a  traction  engine, 
and  he  advises  the  route  accordingly;  he  will  even 
speculate  whether  a  given  bridge  will  support  the 
extraordinary  load. 

Once  we  were  directed  to  go  miles  out  of  our  way 
over  a  series  of  hills  to  avoid  a  stretch  of  road  freshly 
covered  with  broken  stone,  because  our  solicitous 
friends  were  sure  the  stones  would  cut  the  rubber 
tires. 

On  the  other  hand,  in  Michigan,  a  well  meaning 
old  lady  sent  us  straight  against  the  very  worst  of 
sand  hills,  not  a  weed,  stone,  or  hard  spot  on  it,  so 
like  quicksand  that  the  wheels  sank  as  they  revolved; 
it  was  the  only  hill  from  which  we  retreated,  to  find 


On  an   Automobile 


A  woman's 
mind 


that  farmers  avoided  that  particular  road  on  account 
of  that  notorious  hill,  to  find  also  a  good,  well-travelled 
road  one  mile  farther  around.  These  instances  are 
mentioned  here  to  show  how  hazardous  it  is  to  accept 
blindly  directions  given. 


"  Is  this  the  road  to 


is  the  chauffeur's  ever 


recurring  shout  to  people  as  he  whizzes  by.  Four 
times  out  of  five  he  gets  a  blank  stare  or  an  idiotic 
smile.  Now  and  then  he  receives  a  quick  "  Yes"  or 
"  No." 

If  time  permits  to  stop  and  discuss  the  matter  at 
length,  do  so  with  a  man;  if  passing  quickly,  ask  a 
woman. 

i  A  woman  will  reply  before  a  man  comprehends 
what  is  asked ;  the  feminine  mind  is  so  much  more 
alert  than  the  masculine;  then,  too,  a  woman  would 
rather  know  what  a  man  is  saying  than  watch  a  ma 
chine,  while  a  man  would  rather  see  the  machine  than 


listen ; — in   many   ways   the   automobile  differentiates 


the  sexes. 

Of  a  group  of  school  children,  the  girls  will  answer 
more  quickly  and  accurately  than  the  boys.  What  they 
know,  they  seem  to  know  positively.  A  boy's  wits  go 
wool  gathering;  he  is  watching  the  wheels  go  round. 


Towards  South 
Bend 


At  Carlyle,  on  the  way  to  South  Bend,  the  tire  was 
leaking  slightly,  the  nail  had  worked  out.  The  road 
is  a  fine  wide  macadam,  somewhat  rolling  as  South 
Bend  is  approached. 

By  the  road  taken  South  Bend  is  about  one  hundred 
miles  from  Chicago, — the  distance  actually  covered 


The  Start  37 

was  some  six  or  eight  miles  farther,  on  account  of 
wanderings  from  the  straight  and  narrow  path.  The 
hour  was  exactly  two  fifty-three,  nearly  eight  hours 
out,  an  average  of  about  twelve  and  one-half  miles  an 
hour,  including  all  stops,  and  stops  count  in  automo- 
hiling;  they  pull  the  average  down  by  jumps. 

The  extra  tire  was  to  be  at  Elkhart,  farther  on,  and  Mending  the 
the  problem  was  to  make  the  old  one  hold  until  that  *""' 
point  would  be  reached.  Just  as  we  were  about  to 
insert  a  plug  to  take  the  place  of  the  nail,  a  bicycle 
repairer  suggested  rubber  bands.  A  dozen  small 
bands  were  passed  through  the  little  fork  made  by  the 
broken  eye  of  a  large  darning-needle,  stretched  tight 
over  a  wooden  handle  into  which  the  needle  had  been 
inserted;  some  tire  cement  was  injected  into  the  punct 
ure,  and  the  needle  carrying  the  stretched  bands  deftly 
thrust  clear  through ;  on  withdrawing  the  needle  the 
bands  remained,  plugging  the  hole  so  effectually  that 
it  showed  no  leak  until  some  weeks  later,  when  near 
Boston,  the  air  began  to  work  slowly  through  the 
fabric. 

Heavy  and  clumsy  as  are  the  large  single-tube  tires, 
it  is  quite  practicable  to  carry  an  extra  one,  though  we 
did  not.  One  is  pretty  sure  to  have  punctures, — 
though  two  in  twenty-six  hundred  miles  are  not  many. 

Nearly  an  hour  was  spent  at  South  Bend ;  the  river 
road,  following  the  trolley  line,  was  taken  to  Elkhart. 

Near  Osceola  a  bridge  was  down  for  repairs;    the   Fording  a 
stream  was  quite  wide  and  swift  but  not  very  deep. 
From  the  broken  bridge  the  bottom  seemed  to  be  sand 
and  gravel,  and  the  approaches  on  each  side  were  not 


38  On  an  Automobile 

too  steep.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  go  through 
or  lose  many  miles  in  going  round.  Putting  on  all 
power  we  went  through  with  no  difficulty  whatsoever, 
the  water  at  the  deepest  being  about  eighteen  to  twenty 
inches,  somewhat  over  the  hubs.  If  the  bottom  of  the 
little  stream  had  been  soft  and  sticky,  or  filled  with 
boulders,  fording  would  have  been  out  of  the  ques 
tion.  Before  attempting  a  stream,  one  must  make  sure 
of  the  bottom ;  the  depth  is  of  less  importance. 

Goshento  We  did  not  run  into  Elkhart,  but  passed  about  two 

Ketidallville  •<  «•          •     1  i        r  ,1  ••  j_   /-*       1 

miles  south  in  sight  of  the  town,  arriving  at  Goshen  at 
four  fifteen.  The  roads  all  through  here  seem  to  be 
excellent.  From  Goshen  our  route  was  through  Ben- 
ton  and  Ligonier,  arriving  at  Kendallville  at  exactly 
eight  o'clock. 

The  day's  run         The  Professor  with  painstaking  accuracy  kept  a  log 
of  the  run,  noting  every  stop  and  the  time  lost. 

In  this  first  day's  run  of  thirteen  hours,  the  distance 
covered  by  route  taken  was  one  hundred  and  seventy 
miles;  deducting  all  stops,  the  actual  running  time 
was  nine  hours  and  twenty  minutes,  an  average  of 
eighteen  miles  per  hour  while  the  machine  was  in 
motion. 

For  an  ordinary  road  machine  this  is  a  high  aver 
age  over  so  long  a  stretch,  but  the  weather  was  per 
fect  and  the  machine  working  like  a  clock.  The  roads 
were  very  good  on  the  whole,  and,  while  the  country 
was  rolling,  the  grades  were  not  so  steep  as  to  compel 
the  use  of  the  slow  gear  to  any  great  extent. 

The  machine  was  geared  rather  high  for  any  but 
favorable  conditions,  and  could  make  thirty-five 


The  Start  39 

miles  an  hour  on  level  macadam,  and  race  down  grade 
at  an  even  higher  rate.  Before  reaching  Buffalo  we 
found  the  gearing  too  high  for  some  grades  and  for 
deep  sand. 

On  the  whole,  the  roads  of  Northern  Indiana  are  Indiana  roads 
good,  better  than  the  roads  of  any  adjoining  State, 
and  we  were  told  the  roads  of  the  entire  State  are 
very  good.  The  system  of  improvement  under  State 
laws  seems  to  be  quite  advanced.  It  is  a  little  galling 
to  the  people  of  Illinois,  Michigan,  and  Ohio  to  find 
the  humble  Hoosier  is  far  ahead  in  the  matter  of  road 
building.  If  all  the  roads  between  Chicago  and  New 
York  averaged  as  good  as  those  of  Indiana,  the  trip 
would  present  fewer  difficulties  and  many  more  de 
lights. 

The  Professor  notes  that  up  to  this  point  nine  and  Gasoline 
three-quarters  gallons  of  gasoline  have  been  con-  consumed 
sumed, — seventeen  miles  to  the  gallon.  When  a  motor 
is  working  perfectly,  the  consumption  of  gasoline  is 
always  a  pretty  fair  indication  of  the  character  of  the 
roads.  Our  machine  was  supposed  to  make  twenty 
miles  to  the  gallon,  and  so  it  would  on  level  roads, 
with  the  spark  well  advanced  and  the  intake  valve 
operating  to  a  nicety ;  but  under  adverse  conditions 
more  gasoline  is  used,  and  with  the  hill-climbing  gear 
four  times  the  gasoline  is  used  per  mile. 

The  long  run  of  this  first  day  was  most  encour-    The  long puii 
aging ;   but  the  test  is  not  the  first  day,  nor  the  second, 
nor  even  the  first  week,  nor  the  second,  but  the  steady 
pull  of  week  in  and  week  out. 


40  On  an  Automobile 

With  every  mile  there  is  a  theoretical  decrease  in 
the  life  and  total  efficiency  of  the  machine;  after  a 
run  of  five  hundred  or  a  thousand  miles  this  decrease 
is  very  perceptible.  The  trouble  is  that  while  the  dis 
tance  covered  increases  in  arithmetical  progression,  the 
deterioration  of  the  machine  is  in  geometrical.  Dur 
ing  the  first  few  days  a  good  machine  requires  com 
paratively  little  attention  each  day ;  during  the  last 
weeks  of  a  long  tour  it  requires  double  the  attention 
and  ten  times  the  work. 

AS  an  exercise  No  one  who  has  not  tried  it  can  appreciate  the  great 
strain  and  the  wear  and  tear  incidental  to  long  rides  on 
American  roads.  Going  at  twenty  or  twenty-five  miles 
an  hour  in  a  machine  with  thirty-two-inch  wheels  and 
short  wheel-base  gives  about  the  same  exercise  one 
gets  on  a  horse ;  one  is  lifted  from  the  seat  and  thrown 
from  side  to  side,  until  you  learn  to  ride  the  machine 
as  you  would  a  trotter  and  take  the  bumps  accord 
ingly.  It  is  trying  to  the  nerves  and  the  temper,  it 
exercises  every  muscle  in  the  body,  and  at  night  one  is 
ready  for  a  good  rest. 

Lovers  of  the  horse  frequently  say  that  automobilirig 
is  to  coaching  as  steam  yachting  is  to  sailing, — all  of 
which  argues  the  densest  ignorance  concerning  auto- 
mobiling,  since  there  is  no  sport  which  affords  any 
thing  like  the  same  measure  of  exhilaration  and 
danger,  and  requires  anything  like  the  same  amount 
of  nerve,  dash,  and  daring.  Since  the  days  of  Roman 
chariot  racing  the  records  of  man  describe  nothing 
that  parallels  automobile  racing,  and,  so  far  as  we 
have  any  knowledge,  chariot  racing,  save  for  the 


The   Start  41 

plaudits  of  vast  throngs  of  spectators,  was  tame  and 
uneventful  compared  with  the  frightful  pace  of  sixty 
and  eighty  miles  an  hour  in  a  throbbing,  bounding, 
careering  road  locomotive,  over  roads  practically  un 
known,  passing  persons,  teams,  vehicles,  cattle,  ob 
stacles,  and  obstructions  of  all  kinds,  with  a  thousand 
hair-breadth  escapes  from  wreck  and  destruction. 

The  sport  may  not  be  pretty  and  graceful;  it  lacks  AS  a  spot  t 
the  sanction  of  convention,  the  halo  of  tradition.  It 
does  not  admit  of  smart  gowns  and  gay  trappings ;  it 
is  the  last  product  of  a  mechanical  age,  the  triumph 
of  mechanical  ingenuity,  the  harnessing  of  mechanical 
forces  for  pleasure  instead  of  profit, — the  automobile 
is  the  mechanical  horse,  and,  while  not  as  graceful,  is 
infinitely  more  powerful,  capricious,  and  dangerous 
than  the  ancient  beast. 


THE 
DAJLDOAD 


CHAPTER    FOUR 

INTO    OHIO 


Curry  hi g  the 
steed 


A  FIVE  o'clock  call,  though  quite  in  accordance  with 
orders,  was  received  with  some  resentment  and  re 
sponded  to  reluctantly,  the  Professor  remarking  that 
it  seemed  but  fair  to  give  the  slow-going  sun  a  reason 
able  start  as  against  the  automobile. 

About  fifty  minutes  were  given  to  a  thorough  ex 
amination  of  the  machine.  Beyond  the  tightening  of 
perhaps  six  or  eight  nuts  there  was  nothing  to  do, 
everything  was  in  good  shape.  But  there  is  hardly 
a  screw  or  nut  on  a  new  automobile  that  will  not  re 
quire  tightening  after  a  little  hard  usage ;  this  is  quite 
42 


Into  Ohio  43 

in  the  nature  of  things,  and  not  a  fault.  It  is  only 
under  work  that  every  part  of  the  machine  settles  into 
place.  It  is  of  vital  importance  during  the  first  few 
days  of  a  long  tour  to  go  over  every  screw,  nut,  and 
bolt,  however  firm  and  tight  they  may  appear. 

In  time  many  of  the  screws  and  nuts  will  rust  and 
corrode  in  place  so  as  to  require  no  more  attention, 
but  all  that  are  subjected  to  great  vibration  will  work 
loose,  soon  or  late.  The  addition  of  one  or  two  extra 
nuts,  if  there  is  room,  helps  somewhat;  but  where  it 
is  practical,  rivet  or  upset  the  bolt  with  a  few  blows 
of  the  hammer;  or  with  a  punch,  cold  chisel,  or  even 
screw-driver  jam  the  threads  near  the  nut, — these  de 
structive  measures  to  be  adopted  only  at  points  where 
it  is  rarely  necessary  to  remove  the  bolts,  and  where 
possibilities  of  trouble  from  loosening  are  greater  than 
any  trouble  that  may  be  caused  by  destroying  the 
threads. 

We  left  Kendallville  at  ten  minutes  past  seven ;    a   starting  in  the 
light  rain  was  falling  which  laid  the  dust  for  the  first 
two  miles.    With  top,  side  curtains,  and  boot  we  were 
perfectly  dry,  but  the  air  was  uncomfortably  cool. 

At  Butler,  an  hour  and  a  half  later,  the  rain  was 
coming  down  hard,  and  the  roads  were  beginning  to  be 
slippery,  with  about  two  inches  of  mud  and  water. 

We  caught  up  with  an  old  top  buggy,  curtains  all 
on  and  down,  a  crate  of  ducks  behind,  the  horse  slowly 
jogging  along  at  about  three  miles  per  hour.  We 
wished  to  pass,  but  at  each  squawk  of  the  horn  the 
old  lady  inside  simply  put  her  hand  through  under  the 
rear  curtain  and  felt  to  see  what  was  the  matter  with 


rain 


44 


On  an  Automobile 


The  squawk  of 
the  horn 


her  ducks.  We  were  obliged  to  shout  to  attract  her 
attention. 

In  the  country  the  horn  is  not  so  good  for  attracting 
attention  as  a  loud  gong.  The  horn  is  mistaken  for 
dinner-horns  and  distant  sounds  of  farmyard  life. 
One  may  travel  for  some  distance  behind  a  wagon-load 
of  people,  trying  to  attract  their  attention  with  blasts 
on  the  horn,  and  see  them  casually  look  from  side  to 
side  to  see  whence  the  sound  proceeds,  apparently 
without  suspecting  it  could  come  from  the  highway. 

The  gong,  however,  is  a  well-known  means  of  warn 
ing,  used  by  police  and  fire  departments  and  by  trolley 
lines,  and  it  works  well  in  the  country. 


T^he  Professor 
is  cold 


For  some  miles  the  Professor  had  been  drawing 
things  about  him,  and  as  he  buttoned  a  newspaper 
under  his  coat  remarked,  '*  The  modern  newspaper  is 
admirably  designed  to  keep  people  warm — both  inside 
and  out.  Under  circumstances  such  as  these  one  can 
understand  why  it  is  sometimes  referred  to  as  a 
'  blanket  sheet.'  The  morning  is  almost  cold  enough 
for  a  '  yellow  journal,'  "  and  the  Professor  wandered 
on  into  an  abstract  dissertation  upon  journalism  gen 
erally,  winding  up  with  the  remark  that,  "  It  was  the 
support  of  the  yellow  press  which  defeated  Bryan ;" 
but  then  the  Professor  is  neither  a  politician  nor  the 
son  of  a  politician — being  a  Scotchman,  and  therefore 
a  philosopher  and  dogmatist.  The  pessimistic  vein  in 
his  remarks  was  checked  by  the  purchase  of  a  rever 
sible  waterproof  shooting- jacket  at  Butler,  several 
sizes  too  large,  but  warm ;  and  the  Professor  re 
marked,  as  he  gathered  its  folds  about  him,  "  I  was 


Into  Ohio  45 

never  much  of  a  shot,  but  with  this  I  think  I'll  make 
a  hit." 

"  Strange  how  the  thickness  of  a  garment  alters  our 
views  of  things  in  general,"  I  remarked. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  philosophy  is  primarily  a  matter 
of  food ;  secondarily,  a  matter  of  clothes :  it  does  not 
concern  the  head  at  all." 

At  Butler  we  tightened  the  clutches,  as  the  roads 
were  becoming  heavier. 

At  Edgerton  the  skies  were  clearing,  the  roads  were 
so  much  better  that  the  last  three  miles  into  Ridgeville 
were  made  in  ten  minutes. 

At  Napoleon  some  one  advised  the  road  through  The  wron 
Bowling  Green  instead  of  what  is  known  as  the  River 
road;  in  a  moment  of  aberration  we  took  the  advice. 
For  some  miles  the  road  was  being  repaired  and 
almost  impassable ;  farther  on  it  seemed  to  be  a  suc 
cession  of  low,  yellow  sand-hills,  which  could  only  be 
surmounted  by  getting  out,  giving  the  machine  all  its 
power,  and  adding  our  own  in  the  worst  places. 

Sand — deep,  bottomless  sand — is  the  one  obstacle  an  in the  sam 
automobile  cannot  overcome.  It  is  possible  to  traverse 
roads  so  rough  that  the  machine  is  well-nigh  wrenched 
apart ;  to  ride  over  timbers,  stones,  and  boulders ; 
plough  through  mud ;  but  sand — deep,  yielding  sand 
— brings  one  to  a  stand-still.  A  reserve  force  of 
twenty  or  thirty  horse-power  will  get  through  most 
places,  but  in  dry  weather  every  chauffeur  dreads 
hearing  the  word  sand,  and  anxiously  inquires  con 
cerning  the  character  of  the  sandy  places. 

Happily,  when  the  people  say  the  road  is  "  sandy," 


46  On  an  Automobile 

they  usually  mean  two  or  three  inches  of  light  soil,  or 
gravelly  sand  over  a  firm  foundation  of  some  kind— 
that  is  all  right ;  if  there  is  a  firm  bottom,  it  does  not 
matter  much  how  deep  the  dust  on  top ;  the  machine 
will  go  at  nearly  full  speed  over  two  or  three  inches 
of  soft  stuff;  but  if  on  cross-examination  it  is  found 
that  by  sand  they  mean  sand,  and  that  ahead  is  a  suc 
cession  of  sand  ridges  that  are  sand  from  base  to  sum 
mit,  with  no  path,  grass,  or  weeds  upon  which  a  wheel 
can  find  footing,  then  inquire  for  some  way  around 
and  take  it ;  it  might  be  possible  to  plough  through, 
but  that  is  demoralizing  on  a  hot  day. 

Happily,  along  most  sandy  roads  and  up  most  hills 
of  sand  there  are  firm  spots  along  one  side  or  the 
other,  patches  of  weeds  or  grass  which  afford  wheel - 
hold.  Usually  the  surface  of  the  sand  is  slightly 
firmer  and  the  large  automobile  tires  ride  on  it  fairly 
well.  As  a  rule,  the  softest,  deepest,  and  most  treach 
erous  places  in  sand  are  the  tracks  where  wagons 
travel — these  are  like  quicksand. 

The  sun  was  hot,  the  sand  was  deep,  and  we  had 
pushed  and  tugged  until  the  silence  was  ominous ;  at 
length  the  lowering  clouds  of  wrath  broke,  and  the 
Professor  said  things  that  cannot  be  repeated. 

By  way  of  apology,  he  said,  afterwards,  while  shak 
ing  the  sand  out  of  his  shoes,  "  It  is  difficult  to  pre 
serve  the  serenity  of  the  class-room  under  conditions 
so  very  dissimilar.  I  understand  now  why  the  golf- 
playing  parson  swears  in  a  bunker.  It  is  not  right, 
but  it  is  very  human.  It  is  the  recrudescence  of  the 


Into  Ohio  47 

old  Adam,  the  response  of  humanity  to  emergency. 
Education  and  religion  prepare  us  for  the  common 
place ;  nature  takes  care  of  the  extraordinary.  The 
Quaker  hits  back  before  he  thinks.  It  is  so  much 
easier  to  repent  than  prevent.  On  the  score  of  scarcity 
alone,  an  ounce  of  prevention  is  worth  several  tons  of 
repentance ;  and — 

It  was  so  apparent  that  the  Professor  was  losing 
himself  in  abstractions,  that  I  quietly  let  the  clutches 
slip  until  the  machine  came  to  a  stop,  when  the  Pro 
fessor  looked  anxiously  down  and  said, — 

"  Is  the  blamed  thing  stuck  again  ?" 

We  turned  off  the  Bowling  Green  road  to  the  River  The  River  road 
road,  which  is  not  only  better,  but  more  direct  from 
Napoleon  to  Perrysburg.  It  was  the  road  we  origi 
nally  intended  to  take ;  it  was  down  on  our  itinerary, 
and  in  automobiling  it  is  better  to  stick  to  first  inten 
tions. 

The  road  follows  the  bank  of  the  river  up  hill  and 
down,  through  ravines  and  over  creeks ;  it  is  hard, 
hilly,  and  picturesque ;  high  speed  was  quite  out  of 
the  question. 

Not  far  from  Three  Rivers  we  came  to  a  horse 
tethered  among  the  trees  by  the  road-side;  of  course, 
on  hearing  and  seeing  the  automobile  and  while  we 
were  yet  some  distance  away,  it  broke  its  tether  and 
was  off  on  a  run  up  the  road,  which  meant  that  unless 
some  one  intervened  it  would  fly  on  ahead  for  miles. 
Happily,  in  this  instance  some  men  caught  the  animal 
after  it  had  gone  a  mile  or  two,  we,  meanwhile,  creep 
ing  on  slowly  so  as  not  to  frighten  it  more.  Loose 


48  On  an  Automobile 

horses  in  the  road  make  trouble.  There  is  no  one  to 
look  after  them,  and  nine  times  out  of  ten  they  will 
go  running  ahead  of  the  machine,  like  frightened  deer, 
for  miles.  If  the  machine  stops,  they  stop ;  if  it  starts, 
they  start ;  it  is  impossible  to  get  by.  All  one  can  do 
is  to  go  on  until  they  turn  into  a  farmyard  or  down  a 
cross-road. 

s  Pike  The  road  led  into  Toledo,  but  we  were  told  that  by 
turning  east  at  Perrysburg,  some  miles  southwest  of 
Toledo,  we  would  have  fifty  miles  or  more  of  the 
finest  road  in  the  world, — the  famous  Perry's  Pike. 

All  day  long  we  lived  in  anticipation  of  the  treat  to 
come;  at  each  steep  hill  and  when  struggling  in  the 
sand  we  mentioned  Perry's  Pike  as  the  promised  land. 
When  we  viewed  it,  we  felt  with  Moses  that  the  sight 
was  sufficient 

In  its  day  it  must  have  been  one  of  the  wonders  of 
the  West,  it  is  so  wide  and  straight.  In  the  centre  is 
a  broad,  perfectly  flat,  raised  strip  of  half-broken  lime 
stone.  The  reckless  sumptuousness  of  such  a  highway 
in  early  days  must  have  been  overpowering,  but  with 
time  and  weather  this  strip  of  stone  has  worn  into  an 
infinite  number  of  little  ruts  and  hollows,  with  stones 
the  size  of  cocoanuts  sticking  up  everywhere.  A 
trolley-line  along  one  side  of  this  central  stretch  has 
not  improved  matters. 

Perry's  Pike  is  so  bad  people  will  not  use  it ;  a  road 
alongside  the  fence  has  been  made  by  travel,  and  in 
dry  weather  this  road  is  good,  barring  the  pipes  which 
cross  it  from  oil-wells,  and  the  many  stone  culverts. 


Into  Ohio  49 

at  each  of  which  it  is  necessary  to  swing  up  on  to  the 
pike.  The  turns  from  the  side  road  on  to  the  pike  at 
these  culverts  are  pretty  sharp,  and  in  swinging  up 
one,  while  going  at  about  twenty-five  miles  an  hour, 
we  narrowly  escaped  going  over  the  low  stone  wall 
into  the  ditch  below.  On  that  and  one  other  occasion 
the  Professor  took  a  firmer  hold  of  the  side  of  the 
machine,  but,  be  it  said  to  the  credit  of  learning,  at  no 
time  did  he  utter  an  exclamation,  or  show  the  slightest 
sign  of  losing  his  head  and  jumping — as  he  afterwards 
remarked,  "What's  the  use?" 

To  any  one  by  the  roadside  the  danger  of  a  smash-up    The  secret  °f 

good  driving 

seems  to  come  and  pass  in  an  instant, — not  so  to  the 
person  driving  the  machine;  to  him  the  danger  is 
perceptible  a  very  appreciable  length  of  time  before  the 
critical  point  is  reached. 

The  secret  of  good  driving  lies  in  this  early  and 
complete  appreciation  of  difficulties  and  dangers  en 
countered.  "  Blind  recklessness"  is  a  most  expressive 
phrase ;  it  means  all  the  words  indicate,  and  is  contra 
distinguished  from  open-eyed  or  wise  recklessness. 

The  timid  man  is  never  reckless,  the  wise  man 
frequently  is,  the  fool  always;  the  recklessness  of 
the  last  is  blind;  if  he  gets  through  all  right  he  is 
lucky. 

It  is  reckless  to  race  sixty  miles  an  hour  over  a 
highway ;  but  the  man  who  does  it  with  his  eyes  wide 
open,  with  a  perfect  appreciation  of  all  the  dangers, 
is,  in  reality,  less  reckless  than  the  man  who  blindly 
runs  his  machine,  hit  or  miss,  along  the  road  at  thirty 
miles  an  hour, — the  latter  leaves  havoc  in  his  train. 

4 


50  On  an  Automobile 

The  margin  of  One  must  have  a  cool,  quick,  and  accurate  apprecia 
tion  of  the  margin  of  safety  under  all  circumstances; 
it  is  the  utilization  of  this  entire  margin — to  the  very 
verge — that  yields  the  largest  results  in  the  way  of 
rapid  progress. 

Every  situation  presents  its  own  problem, — a  prob 
lem  largely  mechanical, — a  matter  of  power,  speed, 
and  obstructions ;  the  chauffeur  will  win  out  whose 
perception  of  the  conditions  affecting  these  several 
factors  is  quickest  and  clearest. 

One  man  will  go  down  a  hill,  or  make  a  safe  turn 
at  a  high  rate  of  speed,  where  another  will  land  in  the 
ditch,  simply  because  the  former  overlooks  nothing, 
while  the  latter  does.  It  is  not  so  much  a  matter  of 
experience  as  of  natural  bent  and  adaptability.  Some 
men  can  drive  machines  with  very  little  experience  and 
no  instructions ;  others  cannot,  however  long  they  try 
and  however  much  they  are  told. 

Accidents  on  the  road  are  due  to 

Defects  in  the  road, 

Defects  in  the  machine,  or 

Defects  in  the  driver. 

American  roads  are  bad,  but  not  so  bad  that  they 
can,  with  justice,  be  held  responsible  for  many  of  the 
troubles  attributed  to  them. 
Roads  a  con-          The  roads  are  as  they  are,  a  practically  constant, — 

stant factor  <      <•  ,  •  1  -L  1 

and,  for  some  time  to  come, — an  unchangeable  quan 
tity.  The  roads  are  like  the  hills  and  the  mountains, 
obstacles  which  must  be  overcome,  and  machines  must 
be  constructed  to  overcome  them. 

Complaints   against   American   roads   by   American 


Into  Ohio  51 

manufacturers  of  automobiles  are  as  irrelevant  to  the 
issue  as  would  be  complaints  on  the  part  of  traction- 
engine  builders  or  wagon  makers.  Any  man  who 
makes  vehicles  for  a  given  country  must  make  them  to 
go  under  the  conditions — good,  bad,  or  indifferent — 
which  prevail  in  that  country.  In  building  automo 
biles  for  America  or  Australia,  the  only  pertinent  ques 
tion  is,  "  What  are  the  roads  of  America  or  Aus 
tralia  ?"  not  what  ought  they  to  be. 

The  manufacturer  who  finds  fault  with  the  roads 
should  go  out  of  the  business. 

Roads  will  be  improved,  but  in  a  country  so  vast  s 
and  sparsely  settled  as  North  America,  it  is  not  con 
ceivable  that  within  the  next  century  a  net-work  of 
fine  roads  will  cover  the  land ;  for  generations  to  come 
there  will  be  soft  roads,  sandy  roads,  rocky  roads, 
hilly  roads,  muddy  roads, — and  the  American  auto 
mobile  must  be  so  constructed  as  to  cover  them  as  they 
are. 

The  manufacturer  who  waits  for  good  roads  every 
where  should  move  his  factory  to  the  village  of  Fall 
ing  Waters,  and  sleep  in  the  Kaatskills. 

Machines  which  give  out  on  bad  roads,  simply  be 
cause  the  roads  are  bad,  are  faultily  constructed. 

Defects  in  roads,  to  which  mishaps  may  be  fairly 
attributed,  are  only  those  unlooked  for  conditions 
which  make  trouble  for  all  other  vehicles,  such  as 
wash-outs,  pit-holes,  weak  culverts,  broken  bridges, 
— in  short,  conditions  which  require  repairs  to  restore 
the  road  to  normal  condition.  The  normal  condition 
may  be  very  bad;  but  whatever  it  is,  the  automobile 


52  On  an  Automobile 

must  be  constructed  so  as  to  travel  thereon,  else  it  is 
not  adapted  to  that  section  of  the  country. 

It  may  be  discouraging  to  the  driver  for  pleasure  to 
find  in  rainy  weather  almost  bottomless  muck  and  mud 
on  portions  of  the  main  travelled  highway  between 
New  York  and  Buffalo,  but  that,  for  the  present,  is 
normal.  The  manufacturer  may  regret  the  condition 
and  wish  for  better,  but  he  cannot  be  heard  to  com 
plain,  and  if  the  machine,  with  reasonably  careful 
driving,  gives  out,  it  is  the  fault  of  the  maker  and  not 
the  roads. 

It  follows,  therefore,  that  few  troubles  can  be 
rightfully  attributed  to  defects  in  the  road,  since  what 
are  commonly  called  defects  are  conditions  quite  nor 
mal  to  the  country. 

Fremont,  It  was  nearly  six  o'clock  when  we  arrived  at  Fre 

mont.  The  streets  were  filled  with  people  in  gala 
attire,  the  militia  were  out, — bands  playing,  fire 
crackers  going, — a  belated  Fourth  of  July. 

When  we  stopped  for  water,  we  casually  asked  a 
small  patriot, — 

"  What  are  you  celebrating  ?" 

"  The  second  of  August,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  I 
left  it  to  the  Professor  to  find  out  what  had  happened 
on  the  second  of  August,  for  the  art  of  teaching  is  the 
concealment  of  ignorance. 

With  a  fine  assumption  of  his  very  best  lecture-room 
manner,  the  Professor  leaned  carelessly  upon  the  deli 
cate  indicator  on  the  gasoline  tank  and  began: 

"  That  was  a  great  day,  my  boy." 

"  Yes,  sir,  it  was." 


Into  Ohio 


53 


"  And  it  comes  once  a  year." 

"  Why,  sure." 

"  Ahem "  in  some  confusion,  "  I  mean  you  cele 
brate  once  a  year." 

"  Sure,  we  celebrate  every  second  of  August,  and  it 
comes  every  year." 

"  Quite  right,  quite  right ;  always  recall  with  ap 
propriate  exercises  the  great  events  in  your  country's 
history."  The  Professor  peered  benignly  over  his 
glasses  at  the  boy  and  continued  kindly  but  firmly : 

"  Now,  my  boy,  do  you  go  to  school  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Very  good.  Now  can  you  tell  me  why  the  people 
of  Fremont  celebrate  the  second  of  August?" 

"  Sure,  it  is  on  account  of "  Just  then  a  curious 

on-looker  nudged  the  Professor  in  the  ribs  and  began, 
as  so  many  had  done  before, — 

"  Say,  mister,  it's  none  of  my  business " 

"  Exactly,"  groaned  the  Professor ;  "  it  weighs  a 
ton — two  tons  sometimes — more  in  the  sand;  it  cost 
twelve  hundred  dollars,  and  will  cost  more  before  we 
are  done  with  it.  Yes,  I  know  what  you  are  about 
to  say,  you  could  buy  a  '  purty  slick'  team  for  that 
price, — in  fact,  a  dozen  nags  such  as  that  one  leaning 
against  you, — but  we  don't  care  for  horses.  My  friend 
here  who  is  spilling  the  water  all  over  the  machine 
and  the  small  boy,  once  owned  a  horse,  it  kicked 
over  the  dash-board,  missed  his  mother-in-law  and  hit 
him ;  horse's  intention  good,  but  aim  bad, — since  then 
he  has  been  prejudiced  against  horses ;  it  goes  by  gaso 
line — sometimes;  that  is  not  a  boiler,  it  is  the  cooler 
— on  hot  days  we  take  turns  sitting  on  it ; — explosions, 


54 


On  an  Automobile 


At  Norwalk 


Ohio  roads 


— electric  spark, — yes,  it  is  queer; — man  at  last  stop 
made  same  bright  remark ;  no  danger  from  explo 
sions  if  you  are  not  too  near, — about  a  block  away  is 
safer;  start  by  turning  a  crank;  yes,  that  is  queer, 
queerer  than  the  other  queer  things ;  cylinder  does  get 
hot,  but  so  do  we  all  at  times ;  we  ought  to  have  water 
jackets — that  is  a  joke  that  goes  with  the  machine; 

yes,  it  is  very  fast,  from  fifty  to  seventy  miles  per ; 

'  per  what  ?'  you  say ;  well,  that  depends  upon  the 
roads, — not  at  all,  I  assure  you,  no  trouble  to  antici 
pate  your  inquiries  by  these  answers — it  is  so  seldom 
one  meets  any  one  who  is  really  interested — you  can 
order  a  machine  by  telegraph;  any  more  information 
you  would  like  ? — No ! — then  my  friend,  in  return,  will 
you  tell  me  why  you  celebrate  the  second  of  August?" 

"  Banged  if  I  know." 

And  we  never  found  out. 

At  Bellevue  we  lighted  our  lamps  and  ran  to  Nor 
walk  over  a  very  fair  road,  arriving  a  few  minutes 
after  eight.  Norwalk  liveries  did  not  like  automo 
biles,  so  we  put  the  machine  under  a  shed. 

This  second  day's  run  was  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  in  twelve  hours  and  fifty-four  minutes 
gross  time ;  deducting  stops,  left  nine  hours  and  fifty- 
four  minutes  running  time — an  average  of  about 
fourteen  and  one-half  miles  per  hour. 

Ohio  roads  are  by  no  means  so  good  as  Indiana. 
Not  until  we  left  Painesville  did  we  find  any  gravel 
to  speak  of.  There  was  not  much  deep  sand,  but  roads 
were  dry,  dusty,  and  rough;  in  many  localities  hard 
clay  with  deep  ruts  and  holes. 


Into  Ohio  55 

A  six  o'clock  call  and  a  seven  o'clock  breakfast  gave 
time  enough  to  inspect  the  machine. 

The  water-tank  was  leaking  through  a  crack  in  the  water-t 
side,  but  not  so  badly  that  we  could  not  go  on  to  Cleve 
land,  where  repairs  could  be  made  more  quickly.  A 
slight  pounding  which  had  developed  was  finally  lo 
cated  in  the  pinion  of  a  small  gear-wheel  that  operated 
the  exhaust-valve. 

It  is  sometimes  by  no  means  easy  to  locate  a  pound-   Locatin 

.  i  knock 

ing  in  a  gasoline  motor,  and  yet  it  must  be  found  and 
stopped.  An  expert  from  the  factory  once  worked 
four  days  trying  to  locate  a  very  loud  and  annoying 
pounding.  He,  of  course,  looked  immediately  at  the 
crank-  and  wrist-pins,  taking  up  what  little  wear  was 
perceptible,  but  the  pounding  remained;  then  eccen 
tric  strap,  pump,  and  every  bearing  about  the  motor 
were  gone  over  one  by  one,  without  success ;  the  main 
shaft  was  lifted  out,  fly-wheel  drawn  off,  a  new  key 
made;  the  wheel  drawn  on  again  tight,  all  with  no 
effect  upon  the  hard  knock  which  came  at  each  ex 
plosion.  At  last  the  guess  was  made  that  possibly  the 
piston  was  a  trifle  small  for  the  cylinder;  a  new  and 
slightly  larger  piston  was  put  in  and  the  noise  ceased. 
It  so  happened  that  the  expert  had  heard  of  one  other 
such  case,  therefore  he  made  the  experiment  of  trying 
a  fractionally  larger  piston  as  a  last  resort;  imagine 
the  predicament  of  the  amateur,  or  the  mechanic  who 
had  never  heard  of  such  a  trouble. 

There  is,  of  course,  a  dull  thud  at  each  explosion; 
this  is  the  natural  "  kick"  of  the  engine,  and  is  very 
perceptible  on  large  single-cylinder  motors;  but  this 


On  an  Automobile 


A  pint  of  bran 


Norwalk  to 
Cleveland 


Cleveland 


dull  thud  is  very  different  from  the  hammer-like 
knock  resulting  from  lost  motion  between  the  parts, 
and  the  practised  ear  will  detect  the  difference  at  once. 

The  best  way  to  find  the  pounding  is  to  throw  a 
stream  .of  heavy  lubricating  oil  on  the  bearings,  one  by 
one,  until  the  noise  is  silenced  for  the  moment.  Even 
the  piston  can  be  reached  with  a  flood  of  oil  and  tested. 

It  is  not  easy  to  tell  by  feeling  whether  a  bearing  on 
a  gasoline  motor  is  too  free.  The  heat  developed  is  so 
great  that  bearings  are  left  with  considerable  play. 

A  leak  in  the  water-tank  or  coils  is  annoying;  but 
if  facilities  for  permanent  repair  are  lacking,  a  pint 
of  bran  or  middlings  from  any  farmer's  barn,  put  in 
the  water,  will  close  the  leak  nine  times  out  of  ten. 

From  Norwalk  through  Wakeman  and  Kipton  to 
Oberlin  the  road  is  rather  poor,  with  but  two  or  three 
redeeming  stretches  near  Kipton.  It  is  mostly  clay, 
and  in  dry  weather  is  hard  and  dusty  and  rough  from 
much  traffic. 

Leading  into  Oberlin  the  road  is  covered  with  great 
broad  flag-stones,  which  once  upon  a  time  must  have 
presented  a  smooth  hard  surface,  but  now  make  a 
succession  of  disagreeable  bumps. 

Out  of  Elyria  we  made  the  mistake  of  leaving  the 
trolley  line,  and  for  miles  had  to  go  through  sand, 
which  greatly  lessened  our  speed,  but  towards  Stony 
River  the  road  was  perfect,  and  we  made  the  best  time 
of  the  day. 

It  required  some  time  in  Cleveland  to  remove  and 
repair  the  water-tank,  cut  a  link  out  of  the  chain,  take 
up  the  lost  motion  in  the  steering-wheel,  and  tighten 


Into  Ohio  57 

up  things  generally.     It  was  four  o'clock  before  we 
were  off  for  Painesville. 

Euclid  Avenue  is  well  paved  in  the  city,  but  just   Road  to 
outside  there  is  a  bit  of  old  plank  road  that  is  dis-   Pai"esville 
gracefully  bad.     Through  Wickliff,  Willoughby,  and 
Mentor  the  road  is  a  smooth,  hard  gravel. 

Arriving  at  Painesville  a  few  minutes  after  seven, 
we  took  in  gasoline,  had  supper,  and  prepared  to  start 
for  Ashtabula. 

It  was  dark,  so  we  could  not  see  the  tires ;  but  just  A  slight 
before   starting   I   gave   each   a   sharp   blow   with   a  pur 
wrench  to  see  if  it  was  hard, — a  sharp  blow,  or  even 
a  kick,  tells  the  story  much  better  than  feeling  of  the 
tires. 

One  rear  tire  was  entirely  deflated.  A  railroad  spike 
four  and  three-quarters  inches  long,  and  otherwise 
well  proportioned,  had  penetrated  full  length.  It  had 
been  picked  up  along  the  trolley  line,  was  probably 
struck  by  the  front  wheel,  lifted  up  on  end  so  that 
the  rear  tire  struck  the  sharp  end  exactly  the 
right  angle  to  drive  the  spike  in  lengthwise  of  the 
tread. 

It  was  a  big  ragged  puncture  which  could  not  be 
repaired  on  the  road ;  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  stop 
over  night  and  have  a  tire  sent  out  from  Cleveland 
next  day. 

While  waiting  the  next  morning,  we  jacked  up  the   Removing  a 
wheel  and  removed  the  damaged  tire. 

It  is  not  easy  to  remove  quickly  and  put  on  heavy 
single-tube  tires,  and  a  few  suggestions  may  not  be 
amiss. 


58  On  an  Automobile 

The  best  tools  are  half-leaves  of  carriage  springs. 
At  any  carriage  shop  one  can  get  halves  of  broken 
springs.  They  should  be  sixteen  or  eighteen  inches 
long,  and  are  ready  for  use  without  forging  filing  or 
other  preparation.  With  three  such  halves  one  man 
can  take  off  a  tire  in  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes;  two 
men  will  work  a  little  faster ;  help  on  the  road  is  never 
wanting. 

Let  the  wheel  rest  on  the  tire  with  valve  down; 
loosen  all  the  lugs;  insert  thin  edge  of  spring-leaf 
between  rim  and  tire,  breaking  the  cement  and  par 
tially  freeing  tire ;  insert  spring-leaf  farther  at  a  point 
just  about  opposite  valve  and  pry  tire  free  from  rim, 
holding  and  working  it  free  by  pushing  in  other  irons 
or  screw-drivers,  or  whatever  you  have  handy ;  when 
lugs  and  tire  are  out  of  the  hollow  of  the  rim  for  a 
distance  of  eighteen  or  twenty  inches,  it  will  be  easy 
to  pass  the  iron  underneath  the  tire,  prying  up  the 
tire  until  it  slips  over  the  rim,  when  with  the  hands 
it  can  be  pulled  off  entirely ;  the  wheel  is  then  raised' 
and  the  valve-stem  carefully  drawn  out. 

All  this  can  be  done  with  the  wheel  jacked  up,  but 
if  resting  on  the  tire  as  suggested,  the  valve-stem  is 
protected  during  the  efforts  to  loosen  tire. 

Putting  on  a  To  put  on  a  single-tube  tire  properly,  the  rim  should 

be  thoroughly  cleaned  with  gasoline,  and  the  new  tire 
put  on  with  shellac  or  cement,  or  with  simply  the  lugs 
to  hold. 

Shellac  can  be  obtained  at  any  drug  store,  is  quickly 
brushed  over  both  the  tire  and  the  rim,  and  the  tire 
put  in  place — that  holds  very  well.  Cement  well  ap 
plied  is  stronger.  If  the  rim  is  well  covered  with  old 


Into  Ohio  59 

cement,  gasoline  applied  to  the  surface  of  the  old 
cement  will  soften  it;  or  with  a  plumber's  torch  the 
rim  may  be  heated  without  injuring  enamel  and  the 
cement  melted,  or  take  a  cake  of  cement,  soften  it  in 
gasoline  or  melt  it,  or  even  light  it  like  a  stick  of 
sealing-wax  and  apply  it  to  the  rim.  If  hot  cement  is 
used  it  will  be  necessary  to  heat  the  rim  after  the  tire 
is  on  to  make  a  good  job. 

After  the  rim  is  prepared,  insert  valve-stem  and  the 
lugs  near  it ;  let  the  wheel  down  so  as  to  rest  on  that 
part  of  the  tire,  then  with  the  iron  work  the  tire  into 
the  rim,  beginning  at  each  side  of  valve.  The  tire 
goes  into  place  easily  until  the  top  is  reached  where 
the  two  irons  are  used  to  lift  tire  and  lugs  over  the 
rim;  once  in  rim  it  is  often  necessary  to  pound  the 
tire  with  the  flat  of  the  iron  to  work  the  lugs  into  their 
places;  by  striking  the  tire  in  the  direction  it  should 
go  the  lugs  one  by  one  will  slip  into  their  holes ;  put 
on  the  nuts  and  the  work  is  done. 

In  selecting  a  half-leaf  of  a  spring,  choose  one  the 
width  of  the  springs  to  the  machine,  and  carry  along 
three  or  four  small  spring  clips,  for  it  is  quite  likely  a 
spring  may  be  broken  in  the  course  of  a  long  run,  and, 
if  so,  the  half-leaf  can  be  clipped  over  the  break,  mak 
ing  the  broken  spring  as  serviceable  and  strong  for 
the  time  being  as  if  sound. 


GEE 


CHAPTER   FIVE 

ON    TO    BUFFALO 


Painesville  to 
Ashtabula 


FROM  Painesville  three  roads  led  east, — the  North 
Ridge,  Middle  Ridge,  and  South  Ridge.  We  fol 
lowed  the  middle  road,  which  is  said  to  be  by  far  the 
best ;  it  certainly  is  as  good  a  gravel  road  as  one  could 
ask.  Some  miles  out  a  turn  is  made  to  the  South 
Ridge  for  Ashtabula. 

There  is  said  to  be  a  good  road  out  of  Ashtabula; 
possibly  there  is,  but  we  missed  it  at  one  of  the 
numerous  cross  roads,  and  soon  found  ourselves 
wallowing  through  corn-fields,  climbing  hills,  and 
threading  valleys  in  the  vain  effort  to  find  Girard, 
60 


On  to  Buffalo  61 

— a  point  quite  out  of  our  way,  as  we  afterwards 
learned. 

The  Professor's  bump  of  locality  is  a  depression. 
As  a  passenger  without  serious  occupation,  it  fell  to 
hfs  lot  to  inquire  the  way.  This  he  would  do  very 
minutely,  with  great  suavity  and  becoming  gravity, 
and  then  with  no  sign  of  hesitation  indicate  invariably 
the  wrong  road.  Once,  after  crossing  a  field  where 
there  were  no  fences  to  mark  the  highway,  descending 
a  hill  we  could  not  have  mounted,  and  finding  a  stream 
that  seemed  impassable,  the  Professor  quietly  re 
marked, — 

"  That  old  man  must  have  been  mistaken  regarding 
the  road ;  yet  he  had  lived  on  that  corner  forty  years. 
Strange  how  little  some  people  know  about  their  sur 
roundings  !" 

"  But  are  you  sure  he  said  the  first  turn  to  the  left?" 
"  He  said  the  first  turn,  but  whether  to  the  left  or 
right  I  cannot  now  say.     It  must  have  been  to  the 
right." 

"  But,  my  dear  Professor,  you  said  to  the  left." 
"  Well,  we  were  going  pretty  fast  when  we  came  to 
the  four  corners,  and  something  had  to  be  said,  and 
said  quickly.  I  notice  that  on  an  automobile  decision 
is  more  important  than  accuracy.  After  being  hauled 
over  the  country  for  three  days,  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  that  automobiles  are  driven  upon  the  hypothesis 
that  it  is  better  to  lose  the  road,  lose  life,  lose  anything 
than  lose  time,  therefore,  when  you  ask  me  which  way 
to  turn,  you  will  get  an  immediate,  if  not  an  accurate, 
response ;  besides,  there  is  a  bridge  ahead,  a  little  vil 
lage  across  the  stream,  so  the  road  leads  somewhere." 


62  On  an  Automobile 

Now  and  then  the  Professor  would  jump  out  to 
assist  some  female  in  distress  with  her  horse;  at  first 
it  was  a  matter  of  gallantry,  then  a  duty,  then  a  bur 
den.  Towards  the  last  it  used  to  delight  him  to  see 
people  frantically  turning  into  lanes,  fields,  anywhere 
to  get  out  of  the  way. 


About  horses  j^e  horse  is  a  factor  to  be  considered—  and  pla 
cated.  He  is  in  possession  and  cannot  be  forcibly 
ejected,  —  a  sort  of  terre-tenant  ;  such  title  as  he  has 
must  be  respected. 

After  wrestling  with  an  unusually  notional  beast,  to 
the  great  disorder  of  clothing  and  temper,  the  Pro 
fessor  said,  — 

"  The  brain  of  the  horse  is  small  ;  it  is  an  animal 
of  little  sense  and  great  timidity,  but  it  knows  more 
than  most  people  who  attempt  to  drive." 

In  reality  horses  are  seldom  driven;  they  gener 
ally  go  as  they  please,  with  now  and  then  a  hint  as  to 
which  corner  to  turn.  Nine  times  out  of  ten  it  is  the 
driven  horse  that  makes  trouble  for  owners  of  auto 
mobiles.  The  drunken  driver  never  has  any  trouble  ; 
his  horses  do  not  stop,  turn  about,  or  shy  into  the 
ditch  ;  the  man  asleep  on  the  box  is  perfectly  safe  ; 
his  horse  ambles  on,  minding  its  own  business,  giving 
a  full  half  of  the  road  to  the  approaching  machine. 
It  is  the  man,  who,  on  catching  sight  of  the  automo 
bile,  nervously  gathers  up  his  reins,  grabs  his  whip, 
and  pulls  and  jerks,  who  makes  his  own  troubles;  he 
is  searching  for  trouble,  expects  it,  and  is  disappointed 
if  he  gets  by  without  it.  Nine  times  out  of  ten  it  is 
the  driver  who  really  frightens  the  horse.  A  country 


On  to  Buffalo  63 

plug,  jogging  quietly  along,  quite  unterrified,  may  be 
roused  to  unwonted  capers  by  the  person  behind. 

Some  "take  the  antics  of  their  horses  quite  philo 
sophically.  One  old  farmer,  whose  wheezy  nag  tried 
to  climb  the  fence,  called  out, — 

"  Gee  whiz !  I  wish  you  fellers  would  come  this 
way  every  day;  the  old  hoss  hasn't  showed  so  much 
ginger  for  ten  year." 

Another,  carrying  just  a  little  more  of  the  wine  of 
the  country  than  his  legs  could  bear,  stood  up  un 
steadily  in  his  wagon  and  shouted, — 

"  If  you  (hie)  come  around  these  pa-arts  again  with 
that  thres-in'  ma-a-chine,  I'll  have  the  law  on  you, — 
d'ye  hear?" 

The  personal  equation  is  everything  on  the  road,  as 
elsewhere. 

It  is  quite  idle  to  expect  skill,  courage,  or  common 
sense  from  the  great  majority  of  drivers.  They  get 
along  very  well  so  long  as  nothing  happens,  but  in 
emergencies  they  are  helpless,  because  they  have  never 
had  experience  in  emergencies.  The  man  who  has 
driven  horses  all  his  life  is  frequently  as  helpless  under 
unusual  conditions  as  the  novice.  Few  drivers  know 
when  and  how  to  use  the  whip  to  prevent  a  runaway 
or  a  smash-up. 

With  the  exception  of  professional  and  a  few  ama 
teur  whips,  no  one  is  ever  taught  how  to  drive.  Most 
persons  who  ride  —  even  country  boys  —  are  given 
many  useful  hints,  lessons,  and  demonstrations;  but 
it  seems  to  be  assumed  that  driving  is  a  natural 
acquirement. 


64  On  an  Automobile 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  much  more  important  to  be 
taught  how  to  drive  than  how  to  ride.  A  horse  in 
front  of  a  vehicle  can  do  all  the  mean  things  a  horse 
under  a  saddle  can  do,  and  more;  and  it  is  far  more 
difficult  to  handle  an  animal  in  shafts  by  means  of 
long  reins  and  a  whip. 

If  people  knew  half  as  much  about  horses  as  they 
think  they  do,  there  would  be  no  mishaps;  if  horses 
were  half  as  nervous  as  they  are  supposed  to  be,  the 
accidents  would  be  innumerable. 

The  truth  is,  the  horse  does  very  well  if  managed 
with  a  little  common  sense,  skill,  and  coolness. 

The  law  As  a  matter  of  law,  the  automobile  is  a  vehicle,  and 

has  precisely  the  same  rights  on  the  highway  that  a 
bicycle  or  a  carriage  has.  The  horse  has  no  monopoly 
of  the  highway,  it  enjoys  no  especial  privileges,  but 
must  share  the  road  with  all  other  vehicles.  Further 
more,  the  law  makes  it  the  business  of  the  horse  to 
get  accustomed  to  strange  sights  and  behave  itself. 
This  duty  has  been  onerous  the  last  few  years;  the 
bicycle,  the  traction  engine,  and  the  trolley  have  come 
along  in  quick  succession ;  the  automobile  is  about  the 
last  straw. 

Until  the  horse  is  accustomed  to  the  machine,  it  is 
the  duty — by  law  and  common  sense — of  the  auto 
mobile  driver  to  take  great  care  in  passing;  the  care 
being  measured  by  the  possibility  and  probability  of  an 
accident. 

The  sympathy  of  every  chauffeur  must  be  entirely 
with  the  driver  of  the  horse.  Automobiles  are  not  so 


On  to  Buffalo  65 

numerous  in  this  country  that  they  may  be  looked  for 
at  every  turn,  and  one  cannot  but  feel  for  the  man  or 
woman  who,  while  driving,  sees  one  coming  down  the 
road.  The  best  of  drivers  feel  panicky,  while  women 
and  children  are  terror-stricken. 

It  is  no  uncommon  sight  to  see  people  jump  out  of; 
their  carriages  or  drive  into  fields  or  lanes,  anywhere,! 
to  get  out  of  the  way.     In  localities  where  machines) 
have  been  driven  recklessly,  men  and  women,  thougH; 
dressed  in  their  best,  frequently  jump  out  in  the  mud  \ 
as  soon  as  an  automobile  comes  in  sight,  and  long.    • 
before  the  chauffeur  has  an  opportunity  to  show  tljat    I 
he  will  exercise  caution  in  approaching.     All  this  is   j 
wrong  and  creates  an  amount  of  ill-feeling  hard  to  / 
overcome. 

If  one  is  driving  along  a  fine  road  at  twenty  or 
thirty  miles  an  hour,  it  is,  of  course,  a  relief  to  see 
coming  vehicles  turn  in  somewhere;  but  it  ought  not 
to  be  necessary  for  them  to  do  so.  Often  people  like 
to  turn  to  one  side  for  the  sake  of  seeing  the  machine 
go  by  at  full  speed;  but  if  they  do  not  wish  to,  the 
automobile  should  be  so  driven  as  to  pass  with  safety. 

On  country  roads  there  is  but  one  way  to  pass  horses 
without  risk,  and  that  is  let  the  horses  pass  the 
machine. 

In  cities  horses  give  very  little  trouble ;  in  the  coun-    The  wa-y to 
try  they  give  no  end  of  trouble;  they  are  a  very  great 
drawback  to  the  pleasure  of  automobiling.      Horses 
that  behave  well  in  the  city  are  often  the  very  worst  in  \ 
the  country,  so  susceptible  is  the  animal  to  environment.  • 

On  narrow  country  roads  three  out  of  five  will  be- 
5 


66  On  an  Automobile 

have  badly,  and  unless  the  outward  signs  are  unmis 
takable,  it  is  never  safe  to  assume  one  is  meeting  an 
old  plug, — even  the  plug  sometimes  jumps  the  ditch. 

The  safe,  the  prudent,  the  courteous  thing  to  do  is  to 
stop  and  let  the  driver  drive  or  lead  his  horse  by;  if  a 
child  or  woman  is  driving,  get  out  and  lead  the  horse. 

By  stopping  the  machine  most  horses  can  be  gotten 
by  without  much  trouble.  Even  though  the  driver  mo 
tions  to  come  on,  it  is  seldom  safe  to  do  so ;  for  of  all 
horses  the  one  that  is  brought  to  a  stand-still  in  front 
of  a  machine  is  surest  to  shy,  turn,  or  bolt  when  the 
machine  starts  up  to  pass.  If  one  is  going  to  pass  a 
horse  without  stopping,  it  is  safer  to  do  so  quickly, — 
the  more  quickly  the  better;  but  that  is  taking  great 
chances. 

Whenever  a  horse,  whether  driven  or  hitched,  shows 
fright,  a  loud,  sharp  "  Whoa !"  from  the  chauffeur  will 
steady  the  animal.  The  voice  from  the  machine,  if 
sharp  and  peremptory,  is  much  more  effective  than 
any  amount  of  talking  from  the  carriage. 

Much  of  the  prejudice  against  automobiles  is  due 
to  the  fact  that  machines  are  driven  with  entire  dis 
regard  for  the  feelings  and  rights  of  horse  owners ; 
in  short,  the  highway  is  monopolized  to  the  exclusion 
of  the  public.  The  prejudice  thus  created  is  mani 
fested  in  many  ways  that  are  disagreeable  to  the 
chauffeur  and  his  friends. 

Rate  of  speed  The  trouble  is  not  in  excessive  speed,  and  speed 
ordinances  will  not  remedy  the  trouble.  A  machine 
may  be  driven  as  recklessly  at  ten  or  twelve  miles  an 


On  to  Buffalo  67 

hour  as  at  thirty.  In  a  given  distance  more  horses 
can  be  frightened  by  a  slow  machine  than  a  fast.  It 
is  all  in  the  manner  of  driving. 

Speed  is  a  matter  of  temperament.  In  England,  the 
people  and  local  boards  cannot  adopt  measures  strin 
gent  enough  to  prevent  speeding;  in  Ireland,  the 
people  and  local  authorities  line  the  highways,  urging 
the  chauffeur  to  let  his  machine  out;  in  America,  we 
are  suspended  between  English  prudence  and  repres 
sion  on  the  one  side  and  Irish  impulsiveness  and  reck 
lessness  on  the  other. 

The  Englishman  will  not  budge ;  the  Irishman  cries, 
"  Let  her  go." 

Speaking  of  the  future  of  the  automobile,  the  Pro-    The 

e  .  ••  Professor's 

fessor  said,—  forecast 

"  Cupid  will  never  use  the  automobile,  the  little  god 
is  too  conservative;  fancy  the  dainty  sprite  with  oil 
can  and  waste  instead  of  bow  and  arrow.  I  can  see 
him  with  smut  on  the  end  of  his  mischievous  nose  and 
grease  on  the  seat  of  the  place  where  his  trousers 
ought  to  be.  What  a  picture  he  would  make  in  over 
alls  and  jumper,  leather  jacket  and  cap;  he  could  not 
use  dart  or  arrow,  at  best  he  could  only  run  the  ma 
chine  hither  and  thither  bunting  people  into  love — 
knocking  them  senseless,  which  is  perhaps  the  same 
thing.  No,  no,  Cupid  will  never  use  the  automobile. 
Imagine  Aphrodite  in  goggles,  clothed  in  dust,  her 
fair  skin  red  from  sunburn  and  glistening  with  cold 
cream;  horrible  nightmare  of  a  mechanical  age, 
avaunt ! 


68  On  an  Automobile 

on  High  "  The    chariots    of    High    Olympus    were    never 

greased,  they  used  no  gasoline,  the  clouds  we  see 
about  them  are  condensed  zephyrs  and  not  dust. 
Omniscient  Jove  never  used  a  monkey-wrench,  never 
sought  the  elusive  spark,  never  blew  up  a  four-inch 
tire  with  a  half-inch  pump.  Even  if  the  automobile 
could  surmount  the  grades,  it  would  never  be  popular 
on  Olympian  heights.  Mercury  might  use  it  to  visit 
Vulcan,  but  he  would  never  go  far  from  the  shop. 

"  As  for  conditions  here  on  earth,  why  should  a 
young  woman  go  riding  with  a  man  whose  hands, 
arms,  and  attention  are  entirely  taken  up  with  wheels, 
levers,  and  oil-cups?  He  can't  even  press  her  foot 
without  running  the  risk  of  stopping  the  machine  by 
releasing  some  clutch ;  if  he  moves  his  knees  a  hair's- 
breadth  in  her  direction  it  does  something  to  the  mech 
anism  ;  if  he  looks  her  way  they  are  into  the  ditch ; 
if  she  attempts  to  kiss  him  his  goggles  prevent;  his 
sighs  are  lost  in  the  muffler  and  hers  in  the  exhaust ; 
nothing  but  dire  disaster  will  bring  an  automobile 
courtship  to  a  happy  termination;  as  long  as  the 
machine  goes  love-making  is  quite  out  of  the  ques 
tion. 

Dear  old  "  Dobbin,  dear  old  secretive  Dobbin,  what  differ 

ence  does  it  make  to  you  whether  you  feel  the  guiding 
hand  or  not?  You  know  when  the  courtship  begins, 
the  brisk  drives  about  town  to  all  points  of  interest, 
to  the  pond,  the  poorhouse,  and  the  cemetery;  you 
know  how  the  courtship  progresses,  the  long  drives  in 
the  country,  the  idling  along  untravelled  roads  and 
woodland  ways,  the  moonlight  nights  and  misty 
meadows;  you  know  when  your  stops  to  nibble  by 


On  to  Buffalo  69 

the  wayside  will  not  be  noticed,  and  you  alone  know 
when  it  is  time  to  get  the  young  couple  home;  you 
know,  alas !  when  the  courtship — blissful  period  of 
loitering  for  you — is  ended  and  when  the  marriage  is 
made,  by  the  tighter  rein,  the  sharper  word,  and  the 
occasional  swish  of  the  whip.  Ah,  Dobbin,  you  and 
I "  The  Professor  was  becoming  indiscreet. 

"  What  do  you  know  about  love-making,  Profes 
sor?" 

"  My  dear  fellow,  it  is  the  province  of  learning  to 
know  everything  and  practise  nothing." 

"  But  Dobbin- 

"  We  all  have  had  our  Dobbins." 

For  some  miles  the  road  out  of  Erie  was  soft,  dusty,  out  of  Erie 
narrow,  and  poor — by  no  means  fit  for  the  proposed 
Erie-Buffalo  race.  About  fifteen  miles  out  there  is  a 
sharp  turn  to  the  left  and  down  a  steep  incline  with 
a  ravine  and  stream  below  on  the  right, — a  dangerous 
turn  at  twenty  miles  an  hour,  to  say  nothing  of  forty 
or  fifty. 

There  is  nothing  to  indicate  that  the  road  drops  so 
suddenly  after  making  the  turn,  and  we  were  bowling 
along  at  top  speed;  a  wagon  coming  around  the 
corner  threw  us  well  to  the  outside,  so  that  the  mar 
gin  of  safety  was  reduced  to  a  minimum,  even  if  the 
turn  were  an  easy  one. 

As  we  swung  around  the  corner  well  over  to  the 
edge  of  the  ravine,  we  saw  the  grade  we  had  to  make. 

Nothing  but  a  succession  of  small  rain  gullies  in  the 
road  saved  us  from  going  down  the  bank.  By  so 
steering  as  to  drop  the  skidding  wheels  on  the  out- 


7o 


On  an  Automobile 


Wire  wheels 
and  wood 


Lake  Erie 


side  into  each  gully,  the  sliding  of  the  machine  re 
ceived  a  series  of  violent  checks  and  we  missed  the 
brink  of  the  ravine  by  a  few  inches. 

A  layman  in  the  Professor's  place  would  have 
jumped;  but  he,  good  man,  looked  upon  his  escape 
as  one  of  the  incidents  of  automobile  travel. 

"  When  I  accepted  your  invitation,  my  dear  fellow, 
I  expected  something  beyond  the  ordinary.  I  have  not 
been  disappointed." 

It  was  a  wonder  the  driving-wheels  were  not  dished 
by  the  violent  side  strains,  but  they  were  not  even 
sprung.  These  wheels  were  of  wire  tangential  spokes ; 
they  do  not  look  so  well  as  the  smart,  heavy,  substan 
tial  wooden  wheels  one  sees  on  nearly  all  imported 
machines  and  on  some  American. 

The  sense  of  proportion  between  parts  is  sadly  out 
raged  by  spindle-wire  wheels  supporting  the  massive 
frame-work  and  body  of  an  automobile ;  however 
strong  they  may  be  in  reality,  architecturally  they  are 
quite  unfit,  and  no  doubt  the  wooden  wheel  will  come 
more  and  more  into  general  use. 

A  wooden  wheel  with  the  best  of  hickory  spokes 
possesses  an  elasticity  entirely  foreign  to  the  rigid 
wire  wheel,  but  good  hickory  wheels  are  rare;  paint 
hides  a  multitude  of  sins  when  spread  over  wood; 
and  inferior  wooden  wheels  are  not  at  all  to  be  relied 
upon. 

Soon  we  begin  to  catch  glimpses  of  Lake  Erie 
through  the  trees  and  between  the  hills,  just  a  blue 
expanse  of  water  shining  in  the  morning  sun,  a 


On  to  Buffalo  71 


sapphire  set  in  the  dull  brown  gold  of  woods  and 
fields.  Farther  on  we  come  out  upon  the  bluffs  over 
looking  the  lake  and  see  the  smoke  and  grime  of 
Buffalo  far  across.  What  a  blot  on  a  view  so  beau 
tiful  ! 

"  Civilization/'  said  the  Professor,  "  is  the  subjec-  civilization 
tion  of  nature.  In  the  civilization  of  Athens  nature 
was  subdued  to  the  ends  of  beauty ;  in  the  civilization 
of  America  nature  is  subdued  to  the  ends  of  useful 
ness;  in  every  civilization  nature  is  of  secondary  im 
portance,  it  is  but  a  means  to  an  end.  Nature  and  the 
savage,  like  little  children,  go  hand  in  hand,  the  one 
the  complement  of  the  other;  but  the  savage  grows 
and  grows,  while  nature  remains  ever  a  child,  to  sink 
subservient  at  last  to  its  early  playmate.  Just  now  we 
in  this  country  are  treating  nature  with  great  harsh 
ness,  making  of  her  a  drudge  and  a  slave ;  her  pretty 
hands  are  soiled,  her  clean  face  covered  with  soot,  her 
clothing  tattered  and  torn.  Some  day,  we  as  a  nation 
will  tire  of  playing  the  taskmaster  and  will  treat  the 
playmate  of  man's  infancy  and  youth  with  more  con 
sideration  ;  we  will  adorn  and  not  disfigure  her,  love 
and  not  ignore  her,  place  her  on  a  throne  beside  us, 
make  her  queen  to  our  kingship." 

"  Professor,  the  automobile  hardly  falls  in  with 
your  notions." 

"  On  the  contrary,  the  automobile  is  the  one  abso 
lutely  fit  conveyance  for  America.  It  is  a  noisy,  dirty, 
mechanical  contrivance,  capable  of  great  speed;  it  is 
the  only  vehicle  in  which  one  could  approach  that 
distant  smudge  on  the  landscape  with  any  sense  of  the 
eternal  fitness  of  things.  A  coach  and  four  would  be 


J2  On  an  Automobile 

as  far  behind  the  times  on  this  highway  as  a  birch-bark 
canoe  on  yonder  lake.  In  America  an  automobile  is 
beautiful  because  it  is  in  perfect  harmony  with  the 
spirit  of  the  age  and  country;  it  is  twin  brother  to 
the  trolley;  train,  trolley,  and  automobile  may  travel 
side  by  side  as  members  of  one  family,  late  offsprings 
of  man's  ingenuity." 

"  But  you  would  not  call  them  things  of  beauty?" 
Beauty  "  Yes  and  no ;   beauty  is  so  largely  relative  that  one 

cannot  pronounce  hideous  anything  that  is  a  logical 
and  legitimate  development.  Considered  in  the  light 
of  things  the  world  pronounces  beautiful,  there  are 
no  more  hideous  monstrosities  on  the  face  of  the  earth 
than  train,  trolley,  and  automobile;  but  each  genera 
tion  has  its  own  standard  of  beauty,  though  it  seldom 
confesses  it.  We  say  and  actually  persuade  ourselves 
that  we  admire  the  Parthenon ;  in  reality  we  admire  the 
mammoth  factory  and  the  thirty-story  office  building. 
Strive  as  we  may  to- deceive  ourselves  by  loud  protes 
tations,  our  standards  are  not  the  standards  of  old. 
We  like  best  the  things  we  have;  we  may  call  things 
ugly,  but  we  think  them  beautiful,  for  they  are  part 
of  us, — and  the  automobile  fits  into  our  surroundings 
like  a  pocket  in  a  coat.  We  may  turn  up  our  noses 
at  it  or  away  from  it,  as  the  case  may  be,  but  none  the 
less  it  is  the  perambulator  of  the  twentieth  century." 

Buffalo  it  was  exactly  one  o'clock  when  we  pulled  up  near 

the  City  Hall.  Total  time  from  Erie  five  hours  and 
fifty  minutes,  actual  running  time  five  hours,  distance 
by  road  about  ninety-four  miles. 


THE 


CHAPTER   SIX 

BUFFALO 


HOUSING  the  machine  in  a  convenient  and  well-  The 
appointed  stable  for  automobiles,  we  were  reminded 
of  the  fact  that  we  had  arrived  in  Buffalo  at  no  ordi 
nary  time,  by  a  charge  of  three  dollars  per  night  for 
storage,  with  everything  else  extra.  But  was  it  not 
the  Exposition  we  had  come  to  see?  and  are  not  Ex 
positions  proverbially  expensive — to  promoters  and 
stockholders  as  well  as  visitors? 

Then,  too,  the  hotels  of  Buffalo  had  expected  so 
much  and  were  so  wofully  disappointed.  Vast  arrays 
of  figures  had  been  compiled  showing  that  within  a 

73 


74  On  an  Automobile 

radius  of  four  hundred  miles  of  Buffalo  lived  all  the 
people  in  the  United  States  who  were  worth  knowing. 
The  statistics  were  not  without  their  foundation  in 
fact,  but  therein  lay  the  weakness  of  the  entire  scheme 
so  far  as  hotels  were  concerned ;  people  lived  so  near 
they  could  leave  home  in  the  morning  with  a  boiled 
egg  and  a  sandwich,  see  the  Exposition  and  get  back 
at  night.  Travellers  passing  through  would  stop  over 
during  the  day  and  evening,  then  go  their  way  on  a 
midnight  train, — it  was  cheaper  to  ride  in  a  Pullman 
than  stay  in  Buffalo. 

We  might  have  taken  rooms  at  Rochester,  running- 
back  and  forth  each  day  in  the  machine, — though 
Rochester  was  by  no  means  beyond  the  zone  of  exor 
bitant  charges.  Notions  of  value  become  very  much 
congested  within  a  radius  of  two  or  three  hundred 
miles  of  any  great  Exposition. 

The  sight  by  The  Exposition  was  well  worth  seeing  in  parts  by 
day  and  as  a  whole  by  night.  The  electrical  display 
at  night  was  a  triumph  of  engineering  skill  and  archi 
tectural  arrangement.  It  was  the  falls  of  Niagara 
turned  into  stars,  the  mist  of  the  mighty  cascade  crys 
tallized  into  jewels,  a  brilliant  crown  to  man's  triumph 
over  the  forces  of  nature. 

It  was  a  wonderful  and  never-to-be-forgotten  sight 
to  sit  by  the  waters  at  night,  as  the  shadows  were  fold 
ing  the  buildings  in  their  soft  embrace,  and  see  the 
first  faint  twinklings  of  the  thousands  upon  thousands 
of  lights  as  the  great  current  of  electricity  was  turned 
slowly  on ;  and  then  to  see  the  lights  grow  in  strength 
until  the  entire  grounds  were  bathed  in  suffused  radi- 


Buffalo  75 

ance, — that  was  as  wonderful  a  sight  as  the  world  of 
electricity  has  yet  witnessed,  and  it  was  well  worth 
crossing  an  ocean  to  see ;  it  was  the  one  conspicuous 
success,  the  one  memorable  feature  of  the  Exposition, 
and  compared  with  it  all  exhibits  and  scenes  by  day 
were  tame  and  insipid. 

From  time  immemorial  it  has  been  the  special  prov-  The  Midwa\ 
ince  of  the  preacher  to  take  the  children  to  the  circus 
and  the  side  show ;  for  the  children  must  go,  and  who 
so  fit  to  take  them  as  the  preacher?  After  all,  is  not 
the  sawdust  ring  with  its  strange  people,  its  giants, 
fairies,  hobgoblins,  and  clowns,  a  fairy  land,  not  really 
real,  and  therefore  no  more  wicked  than  fairy  land? 
Do  they  not  fly  by  night?  are  they  not  children  of' 
space?  the  enormous  tents  spring  up  like  mushrooms, 
to  last  a  day ;  for  a  few  short  hours  there  is  a  medley 
of  strange  sounds, — a  blare  of  trumpets,  the  roar  of 
strange  beasts,  the  ring  of  strange  voices,  the  crack 
ing  of  whips ;  there  are  prancing  steeds  and  figures 
in  costumes  curious, — then,  flapping  of  canvas,  creak 
ing  of  poles,  and  all  is  silent.  Of  course  it  is  not  real, 
and  every  one  may  go.  The  circus  has  no  annals, 
knows  no  gossip,  presents  no  problems ;  it  is  without 
morals  and  therefore  not  immoral.  It  is  the  one 
joyous  amusement  that  is  not  above,  but  quite  out 
side  the  pale  of  criticism  and  discussion.  There 
fore,  why  should  not  the  preacher  go  and  take  the 
children  ? 

But  the  Midway.  Ah!  the  Midway,  that  is  quite 
a  different  matter;  but  still  the  preacher  goes, — 
leaving  the  children  at  home. 


On  an  Automobile 


Curiosity  of 
learning 


The  streets  of 
Cairo 


Learning  is  ever  curious.  The  Professor,  after 
walking  patiently  through  several  of  the  buildings 
and  admiring  impartially  sections  of  trees  from  Cuba 
and  plates  of  apples  from  Wyoming,  modestly  ex 
pressed  a  desire  for  some  relaxation. 

"  The  Midway  is  something  more  than  a  feature,  it 
is  an  element.  It  is  the  laugh  that  follows  the  tears; 
the  joke  that  relieves  the  tension;  the  Greeks  in 
variably  produced  a  comedy  with  their  tragedies ;  hu 
man  nature  demands  relaxation;  to  appreciate  the 
serious,  the  humorous  is  absolutely  essential.  If  the 
Midway  were  not  on  the  grounds  the  people  would 
find  it  outside.  Capacity  for  serious  contemplation 
differs  with  different  peoples  and  in  different  ages, — 
under  Cromwell  it  was  at  a  maximum,  under  Charles 
II.  it  was  at  a  minimum ;  the  Puritans  suppressed  the 
laughter  of  a  nation;  it  broke  out  in  ridicule  that 
discriminated  not  between  sacred  and  profane.  The 
tension  of  our  age  is  such  that  diversions  must  recur 
quickly.  The  next  great  Exposition  may  require  two 
Midways,  or  three  or  four  for  the  convenience  of  the 
people.  You  can't  get  a  Midway  any  too  near  the 
anthropological  and  ethnological  sections ;  a  cinemato 
graph  might  be  operated  as  an  adjunct  to  the  Fine 
Arts  building;  a  hula-hula  dancer  would  relieve  the 
monotony  of  a  succession  of  big  pumpkins  and  prize 
squashes." 

At  that  moment  the  Professor  became  interested  in 
the  strange  procession  entering  the  streets  of  Cairo, 
and  we  followed.  Before  he  got  out  it  cost  him  fifty 
cents  to  learn  his  name,  a  quarter  for  his  fortune,  ten 
cents  for  his  horoscope,  and  sundry  amounts  for  gems, 
jewels,  and  souvenirs  of  the  Orient. 


Buffalo  77 

Through  his  best  hexameter  spectacles  he  surveyed 
the  dark-eyed  daughter  of  the  Nile  who  was  telling 
his  fortune  with  a  strong  Irish  accent;  all  went 
smoothly  until  the  prophetess  happened  to  see  the 
Professor's  sunburnt  nose,  fiery  red  from  the  four 
days'  run  in  wind  and  rain,  and  said  warningly, — 

"  You  are  too  fond  of  good  eating  and  drinking ; 
you  drink  too  much,  and  unless  you  are  more  temper 
ate  you  will  die  in  twenty  years."  That  was  too  much 
for  the  Professor,  whose  occasional  glass  of  beer — a 
habit  left  over  from  his  student  days — would  not  dis 
color  the  nose  of  a  humming-bird. 

There  were  no  end  of  illusions,  mysteries,  and  de 
ceptions.  The  greatest  mystery  of  all  was  the  eager 
desire  of  the  people  to  be  deceived,  and  their  bitter  and 
outspoken  disappointment  when  they  were  not.  As 
the  Professor  remarked, — 

"  There  never  has  been  but  one  real  American,  and 
that  was  Phineas  T.  Barnum.  He  was  the  genuine 
product  of  his  country  and  his  times, — native  ore  with 
out  foreign  dross.  He  knew  the  American  people  as 
no  man  before  or  since  has  known  them ;  he  knew 
what  the  American  people  wanted,  and  gave  it  to  them 
in  large  unadulterated  doses, — humbug." 

Tuesday  morning  was  spent  in  giving  the  machine 
a  thorough  inspection,  some  lost  motion  in  the  eccen 
tric  was  taken  up,  every  nut  and  screw  tightened,  and 
the  cylinder  and  intake  mechanism  washed  out  with 
gasoline. 

It  is  a  good  plan  to  clean  out  the  cylinder  with  gaso-   cleaning  the 
line  once  each  week  or  ten  days;    it  is  not  necessary,  c- 
but  the  piston  moves  with  much  greater  freedom  and 
the  compression  is  better. 


78  On  an  Automobile 

However  good  the  cylinder  oil  used,  after  six  or 
eight  days'  hard  and  continuous  running  there  is  more 
or  less  residuum ;  in  the  very  nature  of  things  there 
must  be  from  the  consumption  of  about  a  pint  of  oil 
to  every  hundred  miles. 

Many  use  kerosene  to  clean  cylinders,  but  gasoline 
has  its  advantages ;  kerosene  is  excellent  for  all  other 
bearings,  especially  where  there  may  be  rust,  as  on 
the  chain;  but  kerosene  is  in  itself  a  low  grade  oil, 
and  the  object  in  cleaning  the  cylinder  is  to  cut  out 
all  the  oil  and  leave  it  bright  and  dry  ready  for  a 
supply  of  fresh  oil. 

After  putting  in  the  gasoline,  the  cylinder  and  every 
bearing  which  the  gasoline  has  touched  should  be 
thoroughly  lubricated  before  starting. 

Lubrication  Lubrication  is  of  vital  importance,  and  the  oil  used 

makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world. 

Many  makers  of  machines  have  adopted  the  bad 
practice  of  putting  up  oil  in  cans  under  their  own 
brands,  and  charging,  of  course,  two  prices  per  gal 
lon.  The  price  is  of  comparatively  little  consequence, 
though  an  item;  for  it  does  not  matter  so  much 
whether  one  pays  fifty  cents  or  a  dollar  a  gallon,  so 
long  as  the  best  oil  is  obtained ;  the  pernicious  feature 
of  the  practice  lies  in  wrapping  the  oil  in  mystery, 
like  a  patent  medicine, — "  Smith's  Cylinder  Oil"  and 
"  Jones's  Patent  Pain-Killer"  being  in  one  and  the 
same  category.  Then  they  warn — patent  medicine 
methods  again — purchasers  of  machines  that  their 
particular  brand  of  oil  must  be  used  to  insure  best 
results. 


Buffalo  79 

The  one  sure  result  is  that  the  average  user  who 
knows  nothing  about  lubricating  oils  is  kept  in  a  state 
of  frantic  anxiety  lest  his  can  of  oil  runs  low  at  a 
time  and  place  where  he  cannot  get  more  of  the  patent 
brand. 

Every  manufacturer  should  embody  in  the  direc 
tions  for  caring  for  the  machine  information  concern 
ing  all  the  standard  oils  that  can  be  found  in  most 
cities,  and  recommend  the  use  of  as  many  different 
brands  as  possible. 

Machine  oil  can  be  found  in  almost  any  country 
village,  or  at  any  mill,  factory,  or  power-house  along 
the  road ;  it  is  the  cylinder  oil  that  requires  fore 
thought  and  attention. 

Beware  of  steam-cylinder  oil  and  all  heavy  and  cylinder  on 
gummy  oils.  Rub  a  little  of  any  oil  that  is  offered 
between  the  fingers  until  it  disappears, — the  better  the 
oil  the  longer  you  can  rub  it.  If  it  leaves  a  gummy 
or  sticky  feeling,  do  not  use ;  but  if  it  rubs  away  thin 
and  oily,  it  is  probably  good.  Of  course  the  oiliest  of 
oils  are  animal  fats,  good  lard,  and  genuine  sperm ; 
but  they  work  down  very  thin  and  run  away,  and 
genuine  sperm  oil  is  almost  an  unknown  quantity. 
Lard  can  be  obtained  at  every  farmhouse,  and  may  be 
used,  if  necessary,  on  bearings. 

In  an  emergency,  olive  oil  and  probably  cotton-seed 
oil  may  be  used  in  the  cylinder.  Olive  oil  is  a  fine 
lubricant,  and  is  used  largely  in  the  Italian  and 
Spanish  navies. 

Many  special  brands  are  probably  good  oils  and  safe 


80  On  an  Automobile 

to  use,  but  there  is  no  need  of  staking  one's  trip  upon 
any  particular  brand. 

All  good  steam-cylinder  oils  contain  animal  oil  to 
make  them  adhere  to  the  side  of  the  cylinder ;  a  pure 
mineral  oil  would  be  washed  away  by  the  steam  and 
water. 

To  illustrate  the  action  of  oils  and  water,  take  a 
clean  bottle,  put  in  a  little  pure  mineral  oil,  add  some 
water,  and  shake  hard;  the  oil  will  rise  to  the  top 
of  the  water  in  little  globules  without  adhering  at  all 
to  the  sides  of  the  bottle;  in  short,  the  bottle  is  not 
lubricated.  Instead  of  a  pure  mineral  oil  put  in  any 
steam-cylinder  oil  which  is  a  compound  of  mineral  and 
animal ;  and  as  the  bottle  is  shaken  the  oil  adheres  to 
the  glass,  covering  the  entire  inner  surface  with  a 
film  that  the  water  will  not  rinse  off. 

As  there  is  supposed — erroneously — to  be  no  moist 
ure  in  the  cylinder  of  a  gas-engine,  the  use  of  any 
animal  oil  is  said  to  be  unnecessary ;  as  there  is  moist 
ure  in  the  cylinder  of  a  steam-engine,  some  animal  oil 
is  absolutely  essential  in  the  cylinder  oil. 

For  the  lubrication  of  chains  and  all  parts  exposed 
to  the  weather,  compounds  of  oil  or  grease  which  con 
tain  a  liberal  amount  of  animal  fat  are  better.  Rain 
and  the  splash  of  mud  and  water  will  wash  off  mineral 
oil  as  fast  as  it  can  be  applied ;  in  fact,  under  adverse 
weather  conditions  it  does  not  lubricate  at  all;  the 
addition  of  animal  fat  makes  the  compound  stick. 

Graphite  and  Graphite  and  mica  are  both  good  chain  lubricants, 
but  if  mixed  with  a  pure  mineral  base,  such  as  vase 
line,  they  will  wash  off  in  mud  and  water. 


mica 


Buffalo  8 1 

Before  putting  on  a  chain,  it  is  a  good  thing  to  dip 
it  in  melted  tallow  and  then  grease  it  thoroughly  from 
time  to  time  with  a  graphite  compound  of  vaseline 
and  animal  fat. 

One  does  not  expect  perfection  in  a  machine,  but  imperfect 
there  is  not  an  automobile  made,  according  to  the  re 
ports  of  users,  which  does  not  develop  many  crudities 
and  imperfections  in  construction  which  could  be 
avoided  by  care  and  conscientious  work  in  the  factory, 
— crudities  and  imperfections  which  customers  and 
users  have  complained  of  time  and  time  again,  but 
without  avail. 

At  best  the  automobile  is  a  complicated  and  diffi 
cult  machine  in  the  hands  of  the  amateur,  and  so  fat- 
it  has  been  made  almost  impossible  by  its  poor  con 
struction.  With  good  construction  there  will  be 
troubles  enough  in  operation,  but  at  the  present  time 
ninety  per  cent,  of  the  stops  and  difficulties  are  due 
to  defective  construction. 

As  the  machine  comes  it  looks  so  well,  it  inspires 
unbounded  confidence,  but  the  first  time  it  is  seen  in 
undress,  with  the  carriage  part  off,  the  machinery  laid 
bare,  the  heart  sinks,  and  one's  confidence  oozes  out. 

Parts  are  twisted,  bent,  and  hammered  to  get  them 
into  place,  bearings  are  filed  to  make  them  fit,  bolts 
and  screws  are  weak  and  loose,  nuts  gone  for  the  want 
of  cotter-pins ;  it  is  as  if  apprentice  blacksmiths  had 
spent  their  idle  moments  in  constructing  a  machine. 

The  carriage  work  is  hopelessly  bad.  The  build 
ing  of  carriages  is  a  long-established  industry,  em- 

6 


82  On  an  Automobile 

ploying  hundreds  of  thousands  of  hands  and  millions 
of  capital,  and  yet  in  the  entire  United  States  there 
are  scarcely  a  dozen  builders  of  really  fine,  substantial, 
and  durable  vehicles.  Yet  every  cross-road  maker  of 
automobiles  thinks  that  if  he  can  only  get  his  motor 
to  go,  the  carpenter  next  door  can  do  his  woodwork. 
The  result  is  cheap  stock  springs,  clips,  irons,  bodies, 
cushions,  tops,  etc.,  are  bought  and  put  over  the 
motor.  The  use  of  aluminum  bodies  and  more  metal 
work  generally  is  helping  things  somewhat ;  not  that 
aluminum  and  metal  work  are  necessarily  better  than 
wood,  but  it  prevents  the  unnatural  union  of  the  light 
wood  bodies,  designed  for  cheap  horse-vehicles,  with 
a  motor.  The  best  French  makers  do  not  build  their 
bodies,  but  leave  that  part  to  skilled  carriage  builders. 


E    OF    THE    COUNTRY    MECHANIC 


CHAPTER   SEVEN 

BUFFALO    TO    CANANDAIGUA 


THE  five  'hundred  and  sixty-odd  miles  to  Buffalo  had 
been  covered  with  no  trouble  that  delayed  us  for  more 
than  an  hour,  but  our  troubles  were  about  to  begin. 

The  Professor  had  still  a  few  days  to  waste  frivo 
lously,  so  he  said  he  would  ride  a  little  farther, 
possibly  as  far  as  Albany.  However,  it  was  not 
our  intention  to  hurry,  but  rather  take  it  easily, 
stopping  by  the  way,  as  the  mood  —  or  our  friends 
—  seized  us. 

It  rained  all  the  afternoon  of  Tuesday,  about  all 
night,  and  was  raining  steadily  when  we  turned  off 

83 


84  On  an  Automobile 

Main  Street  into  Genesee  with  Batavia  thirty-eight 
miles  straight  away.  We  fully  expected  to  reach  there 
in  time  for  luncheon ;  in  fact,  word  had  been  sent 
ahead  that  we  would  "  come  in,"  like  a  circus,  about 
twelve,  and  friends  were  on  the  lookout, — it  was  four 
o'clock  when  we  reached  town. 

The  road  is  good,  gravel  nearly  every  rod,  but  the 
steady  rain  had  softened  the  surface  to  the  depth  of 
about  two  inches,  and  the  water,  sand,  and  gravel 
were  splashed  in  showers  and  sheets  by  the  wheels 
into  and  through  every  exposed  part  of  the  mech 
anism.  Soon  the  explosions  became  irregular,  and 
we  found  the  cams  operating  the  sparker  literally 
plastered  over  with  mud,  so  that  the  parts  that  should 
slide  and  work  with  great  smoothness  and  rapidity 
would  not  operate  at  all.  This  happened  about  every 
four  or  five  miles.  This  mechanism  on  this  particu 
lar  machine  was  so  constructed  and  situated  as  to 
catch  and  hold  mud,  and  the  fine  grit  worked  in, 
causing  irregularities  in  the  action.  This  trouble  we 
could  count  upon  as  long  as  the  road  was  wet;  after 
noon,  when  the  sun  came  out  and  the  road  began  to 
dry,  we  had  less  trouble. 

The  batteries  When  about  half-way  to  Batavia  the  spark  began 
to  show  blue ;  the  reserve  set  of  dry  batteries  was  put 
in  use,  but  it  gave  no  better  results.  Apparently  there 
was  either  a  short  circuit,  or  the  batteries  were  used 
up;  the  bad  showing  of  the  reserve  set  puzzled  us; 
every  connection  was  examined  and  tightened.  The 
wiring  of  the  carriage  was  so  exposed  to  the  weather 
that  it  was  found  completely  saturated  in  places  with 


Buffalo  to  Canandaigua  85 

oil  and  covered  with  mud.  The  rubber  insulation  had 
been  badly  disintegrated  wherever  oil  had  dropped  on 
it.  The  wires  were  cleaned  as  thoroughly  as  possible 
and  separated  wherever  the  insulation  seemed  poor. 
The  loss  of  current  was  probably  at  the  sparking  coil ; 
the  mud  had  so  covered  the  end  where  the  binding 
parts  project  as  to  practically  join  them  by  a  wet  con 
nection.  Cleaning  this  off  and  protecting  the  binding 
parts  with  insulating  tape  we  managed  to  get  on,  the 
spark  being  by  no  means  strong,  and  the  reserve  bat 
tery  for  some  reason  weak. 

If  we  had  had  a  small  buzzer,  such  as  is  sold  for 
a  song  at  every  electrical  store,  to  say  nothing  of  a 
pocket  voltmeter,  we  would  have  discovered  in  a  mo 
ment  that  the  reserve  battery  contained  one  dead  cell, 
the  resistance  of  which  made  the  other  cells  useless. 
At  Batavia  we  tested  them  out  with  an  ordinary 
electric  bell,  discovering  at  once  the  dead  cell. 

After  both  batteries  are  so  exhausted  that  the  spark  Linking  ceils 
is   weak,   the   current   from  both   sets  can  be  turned  fe™""iplesor 
on   at  the   same   time   in  two  ways;    by  linking  the 
cells  in  multiples, — that  is,  side  by  side,  or  in  series, 
—tandem. 

The  current  from  cells  in  multiples  is  increased  in 
volume  but  not  in  force,  and  gives  a  fat  spark;  the 
current  from  cells  in  series  is  doubled  in  force  and 
gives  a  long  blue  hot  spark.  Both  sparks,  if  the  cells 
are  fresh,  will  burn  the  points,  though  giving  much 
better  explosions. 

As  the  batteries  weaken,  first  connect  them  in  mul 
tiples,  then,  as  they  weaken  still  more,  in  series. 


86 


On  an  Automobile 


Insulation 


The  Professor 
is  tired 


Always  carry  a  roll  of  insulating  tape,  or  on  a  pinch 
bicycle  tire-tape  will  do  very  well.  Wrap  carefully 
every  joint,  and  the  binding-posts  of  the  cells  for  the 
tape  will  hold  as  against  vibration  when  the  little 
binding-screws  will  not.  In  short,  use  the  tape  freely 
to  insulate,  protect,  and  support  the  wires  and  all 
connections. 

If  the  machine  is  wired  with  light  and  poorly  insu 
lated  wire,  it  is  but  a  question  of  time  when  the  wiring 
must  be  done  over  again. 

When  we  pulled  up  in  Batavia  at  an  electrician's  for 
repairs,  the  Professor  was  a  sight — and  also  tired. 
The  good  man  had  floundered  about  in  the  mud  until 
he  was  picturesquely  covered.  At  the  outset  he  was 
disposed  to  take  all  difficulties  philosophically. 

"  I  should  regret  exceedingly,"  he  remarked  at  our 
first  involuntary  stop,  "  to  return  from  this  altogether 
extraordinary  trip  without  seeing  the  automobile 
under  adverse  conditions.  Our  experiences  in  the 
sand  were  no  fault  of  the  machine;  the  responsibility 
rested  with  us  for  placing  it  in  a  predicament  from 
which  it  could  not  extricate  itself,  and  if,  in  the  heat 
of  the  moment  and  the  sand,  I  said  anything  deroga 
tory  to  the  faithful  machine,  I  express  my  regrets. 
Now,  it  seems,  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  observing 
some  of  the  eccentricities  of  the  horseless  carriage. 
What  seems  to  be  the  matter?"  and  the  Professor 
peered  vaguely  underneath. 

"  Something  wrong  with  the  spark." 

"  Bless  me!    Can  you  fix  it?" 

"  I  think  so.  Now,  if  you  will  be  good  enough  to 
turn  that  crank." 


Buffalo  to   Canandaigua  87 

"  With  pleasure.     What  an  extraordinary  piece  of 
mechanism — 

"  A  little  faster." 

'*  The  momentum — 

"  A  little  faster." 

"  Very  heavy  fly-wheel— 

"  Just  a  little  faster." 

"  Friction — mechanics — overcome " 


"  Now  as  hard  as  you  can,  Professor." 
"  Exercise,  muscle,  but  hard  work.     The  spark, — 
is  it  there  ?     Whew !"  and  the  Professor  stopped,  ex 
hausted. 

It  was  the  repetition  of  those  experiences  that 
sobered  the  Professor  and  led  him  to  speak  of  his 
work  at  home,  which  he  feared  he  was  neglecting. 
At  the  last  stop  he  stood  in  a  pool  of  water  and  turned 
the  crank  without  saying  anything  that  would  bear 
repetition. 

While  touring,  look  out  for  glass,  nails,  and  the  The  country 
country  mechanic, — of  the  three,  the  mechanic  can  do  mechamc 
the  largest  amount  of  damage  in  a  given  time.  His 
well-meant  efforts  may  wreck  you ;  his  mistakes  are 
sure  to.  The  average  mechanic  along  the  route  is  a 
veritable  bull  in  a  china  shop, — once  inside  your  ma 
chine,  and  you  are  done  for.  He  knows  it  all,  and 
more  too.  He  once  lived  next  to  a  man  who  owned 
a  naphtha  launch ;  hence  his  expert  knowledge ;  or 
he  knew  some  one  who  was  blown  up  by  gasoline, 
therefore  he  is  qualified.  Look  out  for  him ;  his  look 
of  intelligence  is  deception  itself.  His  readiness  with 
hammer  and  file  means  destruction;  if  he  once  gets 


88  On  an  Automobile 

at  the  machine,  give  it  to  him  as  a  reward  and  a  re 
venge  for  his  misdirected  energy,  and  save  time  by 
walking. 

Even  the  men  from  the  factory  make  sad  mistakes ; 
they  may  locate  troubles,  but  in  repairing  they  will 
forget,  and  leave  off  more  things  than  the  floor  will 
hold. 

Fresh  batteries       ^t  gatavia  we  put  in  new  batteries,  repacked  the 

and  new  cfum  1 

pump,  covered  the  coil  with  patent  leather,  so  that 
neither  oil  nor  water  could  affect  it,  and  put  on  a  new 
chain.  Without  saying  a  word,  the  bright  and  too 
willing  mechanic  who  was  assisting,  mainly  by  look 
ing  on,  took  the  new  chain  into  his  shop  and  cut  off 
a  link.  A  wanton  act  done  because  he  "  thought  the 
chain  a  little  too  long,"  and  not  discovered  until  the 
machine  had  been  cramped  together,  every  strut  and 
reach  shortened  to  get  the  chain  in  place;  meanwhile 
the  factory  was  being  vigorously  blamed  for  sending 
out  chains  too  short.  During  it  all  the  mechanic  was 
discreetly  silent,  but  the  new  link  on  the  vise  in  the 
shop  betrayed  him  after  the  harm  was  done. 

Machine  works  The  run  from  Batavia  to  Canandaigua  was  made 
over  roads  that  are  well-nigh  perfect  most  of  the  way, 
but  the  machine  was  not  working  well,  the  chain  being 
too  short.  Going  up  stiff  grades  it  was  very  apparent 
something  was  wrong,  for  while  the  motor  worked 
freely  the  carriage  dragged. 

On  the  level  and  down  grade  everything  went 
smoothly,  but  at  every  up  grade  the  friction  and  waste 
of  power  were  apparent.  Inspection  time  and  again 


Buffalo  to   Canandaigua  89 

showed  everything  clear,  and  it  was  not  until  late  in 
the  afternoon  the  cause  of  the  trouble  was  discovered. 
A  tell-tale  mark  on  the  surface  of  the  fly-wheel  showed 
friction  against  something,  and  we  found  that  while 
the  wheel  ran  freely  if  we  were  out  of  the  machine, 
with  the  load  in,  and  especially  on  up  grades  with  the 
chain  drawing  the  framework  closer  to  the  running 
gear,  the  rim  of  the  wheel  just  grazed  a  bolt-head  in 
a  small  brace  underneath,  thereby  producing  the  pecu 
liar  grating  noise  we  had  heard  and  materially  check 
ing  the  motor.  The  shortening  of  the  struts  and 
reaches  to  admit  the  short  chain  had  done  all  this. 
As  the  chain  had  stretched  a  little,  we  were  able  to 
lengthen  slightly  the  struts  so  as  to  give  a  little  more 
clearance ;  it  was  also  possible  to  shift  the  brace  about 
a  quarter  of  an  inch,  and  the  machine  once  more  ran 
freely  under  all  conditions. 

Within  twenty  miles  of  Canandaigua   the  country   Geared  too 
is  quite  rolling  and  many  of  the  hills  steep.     Twice  hish 
we  were  obliged  to  get  out  and  let  the  machine  mount 
the  grades,  which  it  did ;   but  it  was  apparent  that  for 
the  hills  and  mountains  of  New  York  the  gearing  was 
too  high. 

On  hard  roads  in  a  level  country  high  gearing  is  all  High  gears 

.          versus  low 

well  enough,  and  a  high  average  speed  can  be  main 
tained,  but  where  the  roads  are  soft  or  the  country 
rolling,  a  high  gear  may  mean  a  very  material  dis 
advantage  in  the  long  run. 

It  is  of  little  use  to  be  able  to  run  thirty  or  forty 
miles  on  the  level  if  at  every  grade  or  soft  spot  it  is 


90  On  an  Automobile 

necessary  to  throw  in  the  hill-climbing  gear,  thereby 
reducing  the  speed  to  from  four  to  six  miles  per  hour ; 
the  resulting  average  is  low.  A  carriage  that  will  take 
the  hills  and  levels  of  New  York  at  the  uniform  speed 
of  fifteen  miles  an  hour  will  finish  far  ahead  of  one 
that  is  compelled  to  use  low  gears  at  every  grade,  even 
though  the  latter  easily  makes  thirty  or  forty  miles  on 
the  level. 

value  of  The  machine  we  were  using  had  but  two  sets  of 

intermediate  ,  _  ~\      . 

gears  gears, — a  slow  and  a  fast.     All  intermediate  speeds 

were  obtained  by  throttling  the  engine.  The  engine 
was  easily  governed,  and  on  the  level  any  speed  from 
the  lowest  to  the  maximum  could  be  obtained  without 
juggling  with  the  clutches;  but  on  bad  roads  and  in 
hilly  localities  intermediate  gears  are  required  if  one 
is  to  get  the  best  results  out  of  a  motor.  As  the  gaso 
line  motor  develops  its  highest  efficiency  when  it  is 
running  at  full  speed,  there  should  be  enough  interme 
diate  gears  so  the  maximum  speed  may  be  maintained 
under  varying  conditions.  As  the  road  gets  heavy  or 
the  grades  steep,  the  drop  is  made  from  one  gear  down 
to  another ;  but  at  all  times  and  under  all  conditions — 
if  there  are  enough  intermediate  gears — the  machine 
is  being  driven  with  the  motor  running  fast. 

With  only  two  gears  where  roads  or  grades  are 
such  that  the  high  gear  cannot  be  used,  there  is  noth 
ing  to  do  but  drop  to  the  low, — from  thirty  miles  an 
hour  to  five  or  six, — and  the  engine  runs  as  if  it  had 
no  load  at  all.  American  roads  especially  demand  in 
termediate  gears  if  best  results  are  to  be  attained,  the 
conditions  change  so  from  mile  to  mile. 


Buffalo  to  Canandaigua  91 

Foreign  machines  are  equipped  with  from  three  to 
five  speed-changing  gears  in  addition  to  the  spark 
control,  and  many  also  have  throttles  for  governing 
the  speed  of  the  engine. 

Going  at  full  speed  down  a  long  hill  about  two  miles  Rear-axle 
out  of  Canandaigua,  we  discovered  that  neither  power 
nor  brakes  had  any  control  over  the  machine.  The 
large  set-screws  holding  the  two  halves  of  the  rear- 
axle  in  the  differential  gears  had  worked  loose  and 
the  right  half  was  steadily  working  out.  As  both 
brakes  operated  through  the  differential,  both  were 
useless,  and  the  machine  was  beyond  control.  An 
obstacle  or  a  bad  turn  at  the  bottom  meant  disaster; 
happily  the  hill  terminated  in  a  level  stretch  of  softer 
road,  which  checked  the  speed  and  the  machine  came 
slowly  to  a  stop. 

The  sensation  of  rushing  down  hill  with  power  and 
brakes  absolutely  detached  is  peculiar  and  exhila 
rating.  It  is  quite  like  coasting  or  tobogganing ;  the 
excitement  is  in  proportion  to  the  risk ;  the  chance  of 
safety  lies  in  a  clear  road ;  for  the  time  being  the 
machine  is  a  huge  projectile,  a  flying  mass,  a  ton  of 
metal  rushing  through  space ;  there  is  no  sensation  of 
fear,  not  a  tremor  of  the  nerves,  but  one  becomes  for 
the  moment  exceedingly  alert,  with  instantaneous 
comprehension  of  the  character  of  the  road ;  every  rut, 
stone,  and  curve  are  seen  and  appreciated ;  the  possi 
bility  of  collision  is  understood,  and  every  danger  is 
present  in  the  mind,  and  with  it  all  the  thrill  of  ex 
citement  which  ever  accompanies  risk. 

During:  the  entire  descent  the  Professor  was  in  bliss- 


92  On  an  Automobile 

ful  ignorance  of  the  loss  of  control.  To  him  the  hill 
was  like  many  another  that  we  had  taken  at  top  speed ; 
but  when  he  saw  the  rear  wheel  far  out  from  the 
carriage  with  only  about  twelve  inches  of  axle  holding 
in  the  sleeve,  and  understood  the  loss  of  control 
through  both  chain  and  brakes,  his  imagination  began 
to  work,  and  he  thought  of  everything  that  could  have 
happened  and  many  things  that  could  not,  but  he 
remarked  philosophically, — 

"  Fear  is  entirely  a  creature  of  the  imagination.  We 
are  not  afraid  of  what  will  happen,  but  of  what  may. 
We  are  all  cowards  until  confronted  with  danger; 
most  men  are  heroes  in  emergencies." 

Repairs  by  Detaching  a  lamp  from  the  front  of  the  carriage, 

repairs  were  made.  A  block  of  wood  and  a  fence  rail 
made  a  good  jack;  the  gear  case  was  opened  up,  the 
axle  driven  home,  and  the  set-screws  turned  down 
tight;  but  it  was  only  too  apparent  that  the  screws 
would  work  loose  again. 

The  next  morning  we  pulled  out  both  halves  of  the 
axle  and  found  the  key-ways  worn  so  there  was  a 
very  perceptible  play.  As  the  keys  were  supposed  to 
hold  the  gears  tight  and  the  set-screws  were  only  for 
the  purpose  of  keeping  the  axle  from  working  out,  it 
was  idle  to  expect  the  screws  to  hold  fast  so  long  as 
the  keys  were  loose  in  the  ways ;  the  slight  play  of  the 
gears  upon  the  axles  would  soon  loosen  screws,  in 
fact,  both  were  found  loose,  although  tightened  up 
only  the  evening  before. 

As  it  had  become  apparent  that  the  machine  was 
geared  too  high  for  the  hills  of  New  York,  it  seemed 
better  to  send  it  into  the  shop  for  such  changes  as 


Buffalo  to  Canandaigua  93 

were  necessary,  rather  than  spend  the  time  necessary 
to  make  them  in  the  one  small  machine  shop  at  Can 
andaigua. 

Furthermore  the  Professor's  vacation  was  drawing 
to  a  close;  he  had  given  himself  not  to  exceed  ten 
days,  eight  had  elapsed. 

"  1  feel  that  I  have  exhausted  the  possibilities  and 
eccentricities  of  automobiling ;  there  is  nothing  more 
to  learn ;  if  there  is  anything  more,  I  do  not  care  to 
know  it.  I  am  inclined  to  accept  the  experience  of 
last  night  as  a  warning ;  as  the  fellow  who  was  blown 
up  with  dynamite  said  when  he  came  down,  '  to  repeat 
the  experiment  would  be  no  novelty.' '' 

And  so  the  machine  was  loaded  on  the  cars,  side 
tracked  on  the  way,  and  it  was  many  a  day  before 
another  start  could  be  made  from  Buffalo. 

It  cannot  be  too  often  repeated  that  it  is  a  mistake 
to  ever  lose  sight  of  one's  machine  during  a  tour;  it 
is  a  mistake  to  leave  it  in  a  machine  shop  for  repairs ; 
it  is  a  mistake  to  even  return  it  to  the  place  of  its 
creation ;  for  you  may  be  quite  sure  that  things  will 
be  left  undone  that  should  be  done,  and  things  done 
that  should  not  be  done. 

It  requires  davs  and  weeks  to  become  acquainted    A  machitl^ is 

•    1          11       i  ",.        .    .  r  fickle 

with  all  the  peculiarities  and  weaknesses  of  an  auto 
mobile,  to  know  its  strong  points  and  rely  upon  them, 
to  appreciate  its  failings  and  be  tender  towards  them. 
After  you  have  become  acquainted,  do  not  risk  the 
friendship  by  letting  the  capricious  thing  out  of  your 
sight.  It  is  so  fickle  that  it  forms  wanton  attachments 
for  every  one  it  meets, — for  urchins,  idlers,  loafers, 


94 


On  an  Automobile 


Lonesome 
riding  alone 


Lost  to  the 
world 


mechanics,  permits  them  all  sorts  of  familiarities,  so 
that  when,  like  a  truant,  it  comes  wandering  back,  it 
is  no  longer  the  same,  but  a  new  creature,  which  you 
must  learn  again  to  know. 

It  is  monotonously  lonesome  running  an  automobile 
across  country  alone;  the  record-breaker  may  enjoy 
it,  but  the  civilized  man  does  not ;  man  is  a  gregari 
ous  animal,  especially  in  his  sports ;  one  must  have  an 
audience,  if  an  audience  of  only  one. 

The  return  of  the  Professor  made  it  necessary  to 
find  some  one  else.  There  was  but  one  who  could  go, 
but  she  had  most  emphatically  refused;  did  not  care 
for  the  dust  and  dirt,  did  not  care  for  the  curious 
crowds,  did  not  care  to  go  fast,  did  not  care  to  go 
at  all.  To  overcome  these  apparently  insurmountable 
objections,  a  semi-binding  pledge  was  made  to  not  run 
more  than  ten  or  twelve  miles  per  hour,  and  not  more 
than  thirty  or  forty  miles  per  day, — promises  so  ob 
viously  impossible  of  fulfilment  on  the  part  of  any 
chauffeur  that  they  were  not  binding  in  law.  We 
started  out  well  within  bounds,  making  but  little  over 
forty  miles  the  first  day;  we  wound  up  with  a  glori 
ous  run  of  one  hundred  and  forty  miles  the  last  day, 
covering  the  Old  Sarnia  gravel  out  of  London,  On 
tario,  at  top  speed  for  nearly  seventy  miles. 

For  five  weeks  to  a  day  we  wandered  over  the  east 
ern  country  at  our  own  sweet  will,  not  a  care,  not  a  re 
sponsibility, — days  without  seeing  newspapers,  finding- 
mail  and  telegrams  at  infrequent  intervals,  but  much  of 
the  time  lost  to  the  world  of  friends  and  acquaintances. 


Buffalo  to   Canandaigua  95 

Touring  on  an  automobile  differs  from  coaching, 
posting,  railroading,  from  every  known  means  of  loco 
motion,  in  that  you  are  really  lost  to  the  world.  In 
coaching  or  posting,  one  knows  with  reasonable  cer 
tainty  the  places  that  can  be  made ;  the  itinerary  is  laid 
out  in  advance,  and  if  departed  from,  friends  can  be 
notified  by  wire,  so  that  letters  and  telegrams  may  be 
forwarded. 

With  an  automobile  all  is  different.  The  vagaries  vagaries  of  an 
of  the  machine  upset  every  itinerary.  You  do  not 
know  where  you  will  stop,  because  you  cannot  tell 
when  you  may  stop.  If  one  has  in  mind  a  certain 
place,  the  machine  may  never  reach  it,  or,  arriving,  the 
road  and  the  day  may  be  so  fine  you  are  irresistibly 
impelled  to  keep  on.  The  very  thought  that  letters 
are  to  be  at  a  certain  place  at  a  certain  date  is  a  bore, 
it  limits  your  progress,  fetters  your  will,  and  curbs 
your  inclinations.  One  hears  of  places  of  interest  off 
the  chosen  route ;  the  temptation  to  see  them  is  strong 
exactly  in  proportion  to  the  assurances  given  that  you 
will  go  elsewhere. 

The  automobile  is  lawless  ;  it  chafes  under  restraint ; 
will  follow  neither  advice  nor  directions.  Tell  it  to  go 
this  way,  it  is  sure  to  go  that ;  to  turn  the  second 
corner  to  the  right,  it  will  take  the  first  to  the  left ; 
to  go  to  one  city,  it  prefers  another ;  to  avoid  a  certain 
road,  it  selects  that  above  all  others. 

It  is  a  grievous  error  to  tell  friends  you  are  coming ;   DO  not  notify 
it  puts  them  to  no  end  of  inconvenience ;   for  days  they  friends 
expect  you  and  you  do  not  come ;  their  feeling  of  relief 
that  you  did  not  come  is  destroyed  by  your  appearance. 


96  On  an  Automobile 

The  day  we  were  expected  at  a  friend's  summer 
home  at  the  sea-side  we  spent  with  the  Shakers  in 
the  valley  of  Lebanon,  waiting  for  a  new  steering- 
head.  Telegrams  of  inquiry,  concern,  and  consola 
tion  reached  us  in  our  retreat,  but  those  who  expected 
us  were  none  the  less  inconvenienced. 

Then,  too,  what  business  have  the  dusty,  grimy, 
veiled,  goggled,  and  leathered  party  from  the  machine 
among  the  muslin  gowns,  smart  wraps,  and  immacu 
late  coverings  of  the  conventional  house  party ;  if  we 
but  approach,  they  scatter  in  self-protection. 

From  these  reflections  it  is  only  too  plain  that  the 
automobile — like  that  other  inartistic  instrument  of 
torture,  the  grand  piano — is  not  adapted  to  the  draw 
ing-room.  It  is  not  quite  at  home  in  the  stable;  it 
demands  a  house  of  its  own.  If  the  friend  who  in 
vites  you  to  visit  him  has  a  machine,  then  accept,  for 
he  is  a  brother  crank ;  but  if  he  has  none,  do  not  fill 
his  generous  soul  with  dismay  by  running  up  his 
drive-way,  sprinkling  its  spotless  white  with  oil,  leav 
ing  an  ineradicable  stain  under  the  porte-cochere,  and 
frightening  his  favorite  horses  into  fits  as  you  run  into 
the  stable. 

just  leave  But  it  is  delightful  to  go  through  cities  and  out-of- 

the-way  places,  just  leaving  cards  in  a  most  casual 
manner  upon  people  one  knows.  We  passed  through 
many  places  twice,  some  places  three  times,  in  career 
ing  about.  Each  time  we  called  on  friends;  some 
times  they  were  in,  sometimes  out;  it  was  all  so 
casual, — a  cup  of  tea,  a  little  chat,  sometimes  with 
out  shutting  down  the  motor — the  briefest  of  calls, 


Buffalo  to   Canandaigua  97 

all  the  more  charming  because  brief, — really,  it  was 
strange. 

We  see  a  town  ahead ;  calling  to  a  man  by  the  road 
side, — 

"What  place  is  that?" 

"  L "  is  the  long  drawn  shout  as  we  go  fly 
ing  by. 

"  Why,  the  S —  — s  live  there.  I  have  not  seen  her 
since  we  were  at  school.  I  would  like  to  stop." 

"  Well,  just  for  a  moment." 

In  a  trice  the  machine  is  at  the  door ;  Mrs.  S — 
is  out — will  return  in  a  moment;  so  sorry,  cannot 
wait,  leave  cards ;  call  again  some  other  day ;  and  we 
turn  ten  or  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  to  one  side  to  see 
another  old  school-friend  for  five  or  ten  minutes — just 
long  enough  for  the  chauffeur  to  oil-up  while  the 
school-mates  chat. 

The  automobile  annihilates  time;  it  dispenses  with 
watch  and  clock;  it  vaguely  notes  the  coming  up  and 
the  going  down  of  the  sun ;  but  it  goes  right  on  by 
sunlight,  by  moonlight,  by  lamplight,  by  no  light  at 
all,  until  it  is  brought  to  a  stand-still  or  capriciously 
stops  of  its  own  accord. 


THE  OLD 

STONE    BLACKSMITH    SHOP  AT  STAFFGPD 


CHAPTER   EIGHT 

THE    MORGAN    MYSTERY 


IT  was  Wednesday,  August  22,  that  we  left  Buf 
falo.     In  some  stray  notes  made  by  my  companion,  I 
find  this  enthusiastic  description  of  the  start. 
Toofitoof!  "Toof!  toof!    on  it  comes  like  a  gigantic  bird,  its 

red  breast  throbbing,  its  black  wings  quivering;  it 
swerves  to  the  right,  to  the  left,  and  with  a  quick 
sweep  circles  about  and  stands  panting  at  the  curb 
impatient  to  be  off. 

"  I  hastily  mount  and  make  ready  for  the  long 
flight.  The  chauffeur  grasps  the  iron  reins,  something 
is  pulled,  and  something  is  pressed, — '  Chic — chic — 


The  Morgan  Mystery  99 

whirr — whirr — r — r,'  we  are  off.  Through  the  rich 
foliage  of  noble  trees  we  catch  last  glimpses  of  beau 
tiful  homes  gay  with  flags,  with  masses  of  flowers  and 
broad,  green  lawns. 

"  In  a  moment  we  are  in  the  crowded  streets  where 
cars,  omnibuses,  cabs,  carriages,  trucks,  and  wagons 
of  every  description  are  hurrying  pell-mell  in  every 
direction.  The  automobile  glides  like  a  thing  of  life 
in  and  out,  snorting  with  vexation  if  blocked  for  an 
instant. 

"  Soon  we  are  out  of  the  hurly-burly ;  the  homes 
melt  away  into  the  country ;  the  road  lengthens ;  we 
pass  the  old  toll-gate  and  are  fairly  on  our  way ;  fare 
well  city  of  jewelled  towers  and  gay  festivities. 

"  The  day  is  bright,  the  air  is  sweet,  and  myriads  of 
yellow  butterflies  flutter  about  us,  so  thickly  covering 
the  ground  in  places  as  to  look  like  beds  of  yellow 
flowers. 

"  Corn-fields  and  pastures  stretch  along  the  road 
sides  ;  big  red  barns  and  cosey  white  houses  seem  to 
go  skurrying  by,  calling,  '  I  spy/  then  vanishing  in  a 
sort  of  cinematographic  fashion  as  the  automobile 
rushes  on." 

As  we  sped  onward  I  pointed  out  the  places — only 
too  well  remembered — where  the  Professor  had 
worked  so  hard  exactly  two  weeks  before  to  the 
day. 

After  luncheon,  while  riding  about  some  of  the  less    The  Morgan 
frequented  streets  of  Batavia,  we  came  quite  unex-   monument 
pectedly  to  an  old  cemetery.    In  the  corner  close  to  the 
tracks  of  the  New  York  Central,  so  placed  as  to  be 


ioo  On  an  Automobile 

in  plain  view  of  all  persons  passing  on  trains,  is  a 
tall,  gray,  weather-beaten  monument,  with  the  life-size 
figure  of  a  man  on  the  top  of  the  square  shaft.  It 
is  the  monument  to  the  memory  of  William  Morgan 
who  was  kidnapped  near  that  spot  in  the  month  of 
September,  1826,  and  whose  fate  is  one  of  the  mys 
teries  of  the  last  century. 

To  read  the  inscriptions  I  climbed  the  rickety  fence ; 
the  grass  was  high,  the  weeds  thick ;  the  entire  place 
showed  signs  of  neglect  and  decay. 

The  south  side  of  the  shaft,  facing  the  railroad,  was 
inscribed  as  follows: 

SACRED  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF 
WILLIAM    MORGAN, 

A    NATIVE  OF  VIRGINIA, 

A    CAPT.    IN    THE    WAR    OF    l8l2, 

A    RESPECTABLE    CITIZEN    OF 

BATAVIA,    AND    A    MARTYR 

TO   THE   FREEDOM    OF    WRITING, 

PRINTING,    AND    SPEAKING    THE 

TRUTH.      HE   WAS    ABDUCTED 
FROM    NEAR    THIS    SPOT    IN    THE 

YEAR    1826    BY    FREEMASONS, 

AND    MURDERED    FOR    REVEALING 

THE    SECRETS   OF   THE   ORDER. 

The  disappearance  of  Morgan  is  still  a  mystery, — 
a  myth  to  most  people  nowadays;  a  very  stirring 
reality  in  central  and  western  New  York  seventy-five 
years  ago ;  even  now  in  the  localities  concerned  the 
old  embers  of  bitter  feeling  show  signs  of  life  if 
fanned  by  so  much  as  a  breath. 


The  Morgan   Mystery  101 

Six  miles  beyond  Batavia,  on  the  road  to  Le  Roy,  is  Stafford 
the  little  village  of  Stafford ;  some  twenty  or  thirty 
houses  bordering  the  highway;  a  church,  a  school- 
house,  the  old  stage  tavern,  and  several  buildings  that 
are  to-day  very  much  as  they  were  nearly  one  hundred 
years  ago.  This  is  the  one  place  which  remains  very 
much  as  it  was  seventy-five  years  ago  when  Morgan 
was  kidnapped  and  taken  through  to  Canandaigua. 
As  one  approaches  the  little  village,  on  the  left  hand 
side  of  the  highway  set  far  back  in  an  open  field  is  an 
old  stone  church  long  since  abandoned  and  disused, 
but  so  substantially  built  that  it  has  defied  time  and 
weather.  It  is  a  monument  to  the  liberality  of  the 
people  of  that  locality  in  those  early  days,  for  it  was 
erected  for  the  accommodation  of  worshippers  regard 
less  of  sect ;  it  was  at  the  disposal  of  any  denomina 
tion  that  might  wish  to  hold  services  therein.  Appar 
ently  the  foundation  of  the  weather-beaten  structure 
was  too  liberal,  for  it  has  been  many  years  since  it  has 
been  used  for  any  purpose  whatsoever. 

As  one  approaches  the  bridge  crossing  the  little  The  Masonic 
stream  which  cuts  the  village  in  two,  there  is  at  the 
left  on  the  bank  of  the  stream  a  large  three-story 
stone  dwelling.  Eighty  years  ago  the  first  story  of 
this  dwelling  was  occupied  as  a  store ;  the  third  story 
was  the  Masonic  lodge-room,  and  no  doubt  the  events 
leading  up  to  the  disappearance  of  Morgan  were 
warmly  discussed  within  the  four  walls  of  this  old 
building.  Across  from  the  three-story  stone  building 
is  a  brick  house  set  well  back  from  the  highway,  sur 
rounded  by  shrubbery,  and  approached  by  a  gravel 
walk  bordered  by  old-fashioned  boxwood  hedges. 


IO2 


On  an   Automobile 


This  house  was  built  in   1812,  and  is  still  well  pre 
served.    For  many  years  it  was  a  quite  famous  private 
school  for  young  ladies,  kept  by  a  Mr.  Radcliffe. 
The  old  Across  the  little  bridge  on  the  right  is  a  low  stone 

blacksmith  ,.,,.  1,1          •  , 

shop  building  now  used  as  a  blacksmith  shop,  but  which 

eighty  years  ago  was  a  dwelling.  A  little  farther  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street  is  the  old  stage  tavern, 
still  kept  as  a  tavern,  and  to-day  in  substantially  the 
same  condition  inside  and  out  as  it  was  seventy-five 
years  ago.  It  is  now  only  a  roadside  inn,  but  before 
railroads  were,  through  stages  from  Buffalo,  Albany, 
and  New  York  stopped  here.  A  charming  old  lady 
living  just  opposite,  said, — 

"  I  have  sat  on  this  porch  many  a  day  and  watched 
the  stages  and  private  coaches  come  rattling  up  with 
horn  and  whip  and  carrying  the  most  famous  people 
in  the  country, — all  stopped  there  just  across  the  road 
at  that  old  red  tavern ;  those  were  gay  days ;  I  shall 
never  see  the  like  again ;  but  perhaps  you  may,  for 
now  coaches  like  yours  stop  at  the  old  tavern  almost 
every  day." 

The  ballroom  of  the  tavern  remains  exactly  as  it  was, 
— a  fireplace  at  one  end  filled  with  ashes  of  burnt-out 
revelries,  a  little  railing  at  one  side  where  the  fiddlers 
sat,  the  old  benches  along  the  side, — all  remind  one  of 
the  gayeties  of  long  ago. 

oid  prejudices  In  connection  with  the  Morgan  mystery  the  village 
of  Stafford  is  interesting,  because  the  old  tavern  and 
the  three-story  stone  building  are  probably  the  only 
buildings  still  standing  which  were  identified  with  the 
events  leading  up  to  the  disappearance  of  Morgan. 


The  Morgan  Mystery  103 

The  other  towns,  like  Batavia  and  Canandaigua,  have 
grown  and  changed,  so  that  the  old  buildings  have 
long  since  made  way  for  modern.  One  of  the  last  to 
go  was  the  old  jail  at  Canandaigua  where  Morgan  was 
confined  and  from  which  he  was  taken.  When  that 
old  jail  was  torn  down  some  years  ago,  people  carried 
away  pieces  of  his  cell  as  souvenirs  of  a  mystery  still 
fascinating  because  still  a  mystery. 

As  we  came  out  of  the  old  tavern  there  were  a  num 
ber  of  men  gathered  about  the  machine,  looking  at  it. 
I  asked  them  some  questions  about  the  village,  and 
happened  to  say, — 

"  I  once  knew  a  man  who,  seventy-five  years  ago, 
lived  in  that  little  stone  building  by  the  bridge." 

'  That  was  in  Morgan's  time,"  said  an  old  man,  and 
every  one  in  the  crowd  turned  instantly  from  the  auto 
mobile  to  look  at  me. 

"  Yes,  he  lived  here  as  a  young  man." 

''  They  stopped  at  this  very  tavern  with  Morgan  on 
their  way  through,"  said  some  one  in  the  crowd. 

"  And  that  stone  building  just  the  other  side  of  the 
bridge  is  where  the  Masons  met  in  those  days,"  said 
another. 

'  That's  where  they  took  Miller,"  interrupted  the 
old  man. 

"  Who  was  Miller?"  I  asked. 

"  He  was  the  printer  in  Batavia  who  was  getting  out 
Morgan's  book;  they  brought  him  here  to  Stafford, 
and  took  him  up  into  the  lodge-room  in  that  building 
and  tried  to  frighten  him,  but  he  wasn't  to  be  fright 
ened,  so  they  took  him  on  to  Le  Roy  and  let  him 
ero." 


104  On  an  Automobile 

"  Did  they  ever  find  out  what  became  of  Morgan?" 
I  asked. 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then  the  old 
man,  looking  first  at  the  others,  said, — 

"  No-o-o,  not  for  sartain,  but  the  people  in  this 
locality  hed  their  opinion,  and  hev  it  yet." 

"  You  bet  they  have,"  came  from  some  one  in  the 
crowd. 

Thursday  we  started  for  Rochester  by  way  of  Staf 
ford  a»d  Le  Roy  instead  of  Newkirk,  Byron,  and  Ber 
gen,  which  is  the  more  direct  route  and  also  a  good 
road. 

The  morning  was  bright  and  very  warm,  scarcely  a 
cloud  in  the  sky,  but  there  was  a  feeling  of  storm  in 
the  air, — the  earth  was  restless. 

As  we  neared  Stafford  dark  clouds  were  gathering 
in  the  far  distant  skies,  but  not  yet  near  enough  to 
cause  apprehension.  Driving  slowly  into  the  village/ 
we  again  visited  the  three-story  stone  house.  Here, 
no  doubt,  as  elsewhere,  Morgan's  forthcoming  expo 
sures  were  discussed  and  denounced,  here  the  plot  to 
seize  him — if  plot  there  was — may  have  been  formed ; 
but  then  there  was  probably  no  plot,  conspiracy,  or  ac 
tion  on  the  part  of  any  lodge  or  body  of  Masons.  Mor 
gan  was  in  their  eyes  a  most  despicable  traitor, — a  man 
who  proposed  to  sell — not  simply  disclose,  but  sell — 
the  secrets  of  the  order  he  joined.  There  is  no  reason 
to  believe  that  he  had  the  good  of  any  one  at  heart; 
that  he  had  anything  in  view  but  his  own  material 
prosperity.  He  made  a  bargain  with  a  printer  in 
Batavia  to  expose  Masonry,  and  lost  his  life  in  at- 


The  Morgan   Mystery  105 

tempting  to  carry  out  that  bargain.  Lost  his  life! — 
who  knows?  The  story  is  a  strange  one,  as  strange 
as  anything  in  the  Arabian  Nights ;  there  are  men 
still  living  who  faintly  recollect  the  excitement,  the 
feuds  and  controversies  which  lasted  for  years.  From 
Batavia  to  Canandaigua  the  name  of  Morgan  calls 
forth  a  flood  of  reminiscences.  A  man  whose  father 
or  grandfather  had  anything  to  do  with  the  affair  is 
a  character  in  the  community;  now  and  then  a  man 
is  found  who  knew  a  man  who  caught  a  glimpse  of 
Morgan  during  that  mysterious  midnight  ride  from 
the  Canandaigua  jail  over  the  Rochester  road,  and  on 
to  the  end  in  the  magazine  of  the  old  fort  at  Lewiston. 
One  cannot  spend  twenty-four  hours  in  this  country 
without  being  drawn  into  the  vortex  of  this  absorbing 
mystery ;  it  hangs  over  the  entire  section,  lingers  along 
the  road-sides,  finds  outward  sign  and  habitation  in 
old  buildings,  monuments,  and  ruins ;  it  echoes  from 
the  past  in  musty  books,  papers,  and  pamphlets ;  it 
once  was  politics,  now  is  history ;  the  years  have  not 
solved  it ;  time  is  helpless. 

At  Le  Roy  we  sought  shelter  under  the  friendly  roof  The  story  toid 
of  an  old,  old  house.  How  it  did  storm ;  the  Rochester 
papers  next  day  said  that  no  such  storm  had  ever 
been  known  in  that  part  of  the  State.  The  rain  fell 
in  torrents;  the  main  street  was  a  stream  of  water 
emptying  into  the  river ;  the  flashes  of  lightning  were 
followed  so  quickly  by  crashes  of  thunder  that  we 
knew  trees  and  buildings  were  struck  near  by,  as  in 
fact  they  were.  It  seemed  as  if  the  heavens  were  lay 
ing  siege  to  the  little  village  and  bringing  to  bear  all 
nature's  great  guns. 


106  On  an  Automobile 

The  house  was  filled  with  old  books  and  mementoes 
of  the  past;  every  nook  and  corner  was  interesting. 
In  an  old  secretary  in  an  upper  room  was  found  a 
complete  history  of  Morgan's  disappearance,  together 
with  the  affidavits  taken  at  the  time  and  records  of 
such  court  proceedings  as  were  had. 

These  papers  had  been  gathered  together  in  1829. 
One  by  one  I  turned  the  yellow  leaves  and  read  the 
story  from  beginning  to  end ;  it  is  in  brief  as  follows : 

in  the  year  jn  ^ie  summer  of  i$26  it  was  rumored  throughout 

Western  New  York  that  one  William  Morgan,  then 
living  in  the  village  of  Batavia,  was  writing  an  ex 
posure  of  the  secrets  of  Free  Masonry,  under  con 
tract  with  David  Miller,  a  printer  of  the  same  place, 
who  was  to  publish  the  pamphlet. 

Morgan  was  a  man  entirely  without  means ;  he  was 
said  to  have  served  in  the  War  of  1812,  and  was 
known  to  have  been  a  brewer,  but  had  not  made  a 
success  in  business ;  he  was  rooming  with  a  family  in 
Batavia  with  his  wife  and  two  small  children,  one  a 
child  of  two  years,  the  other  a  babe  of  two  months. 
He  was  quite  irresponsible,  and  apparently  not  over 
scrupulous  in  either  contracting  debts  or  the  use  of 
the  property  of  others. 

There  is  not  the  slightest  reason  to  believe  that  his 
so-called  exposure  of  Masonry  was  prompted  by  any 
motives  other  than  the  profits  he  might  realize  from 
the  sale  of  the  pamphlet.  Nor  is  there  any  evidence 
that  he  enjoyed  the  confidence  of  the  community  where 
he  lived.  His  monument — as  in  many  another  case — 
awards  him  virtues  he  did  not  possess.  The  figure  of 


The  Morgan  Mystery  107 

noble  bearing-  on  the  top  of  the  shaft  is  the  idealization 
of  subsequent  events,  and  probably  but  illy  corre 
sponds  with  the  actual  appearance  of  the  impecunious 
reality.  The  man's  fate  made  him  a  hero. 

On  August  9  the   following  notice  appeared   in  a  A  uttie 
newspaper  published  in  Canandaigua: 

"  NOTICE  AND  CAUTION. — If  a  man  calling  himself  William 
Morgan  should  intrude  himself  on  the  community,  they 
should  be  on  their  guard,  particularly  the  Masonic  Frater 
nity.  Morgan  was  in  the  village  in  May  last,  and  his  con 
duct  while  here  and  elsewhere  calls  forth  this  notice.  Any 
information  in  relation  to  Morgan  can  be  obtained  by  calling 
at  the  Masonic  Hall  in  this  village.  Brethren  and  Com 
panions  are  particularly  requested  to  observe,  mark,  and 
govern  themselves  accordingly. 

"  Morgan  is  considered  a  swindler  and  a  dangerous  man. 

"  There  are  people  in  the  village  who  would  be  happy  to 
see  this  Captain  Morgan. 

"  CANANDAIGUA,  August  9,  1826." 

This  notice  was  copied  in  two  newspapers  published 
in  Batavia. 

About  the  middle  of  August  a  stranger  by  the  name 
of  Daniel  Johns  appeared  in  Batavia  and  took  up  his 
lodgings  in  one  of  the  public  houses  of  the  village. 
He  made  the  acquaintance  of  Miller,  offered  to  go  in 
business  with  him,  and  to  furnish  whatever  money 
might  be  necessary  for  the  publication  of  the  Morgan 
book.  Miller  accepted  his  proposition  and  took  the 
man  into  his  confidence.  As  it  afterwards  turned  out, 
Johns's  object  in  seeking  the  partnership  was  to 
secure  possession  of  the  Morgan  manuscript,  so  that 
Miller  could  not  publish  the  work;  the  man's  subse- 


io8  On  an  Automobile 

quent  connection  with  this  strange  narrative  appears 
from  the  affidavit  of  Mrs.  Morgan,  referred  to  farther 
on. 

During  the  month  of  August,  Morgan  with  his 
family  boarded  at  a  house  in  the  heart  of  the  village ; 
but  to  avoid  interruption  in  his  work  he  had  an  upper 
room  in  the  house  of  John  David,  on  the  other  side  of 
the  creek  from  the  town. 

The  trouble  August   1 9  three  well-known  residents  of  the  vil 

lage  accompanied  by  a  constable  from  Pembroke  went 
to  David's  house,  inquired  for  David  and  Towsley, 
who  both  lived  there  with  their  families,  and  on  being 
told  they  were  not  at  home,  rushed  up-stairs  to  the 
room  where  Morgan  was  writing,  seized  him  and  the 
papers  which  he  was  even  then  arranging  for  the 
printer.  He  was  taken  to  the  county  jail  and  kept 
from  Saturday  afternoon  until  Monday  morning, 
when  he  was  bailed  out. 

On  the  same  Saturday  evening  the  same  men  went 
to  the  house  where  Morgan  boarded,  and  saying  they 
had  an  execution,  inquired  of  Mrs.  Morgan  whether 
her  husband  had  any  property.  They  were  told  lie 
had  none,  but  nevertheless  two  of  the  men  went  into 
Morgan's  room  and  made  a  search  for  papers.  On 
leaving  the  house  one  of  them  said  to  Mrs.  Morgan, 
"  We  have  just  conducted  your  husband  to  jail,  and 
shall  keep  him  there  until  we  find  his  papers." 


A  midnight  September  8,  James  Ganson,  who  kept  the  tavern  at 

Stafford,  was  notified  from  Batavia  that  between  forty 
and  fifty  men  would  be  there  for  supper.     The  men 


The  Morgan  Mystery  109 

came  and  late  at  night  departed  for  Batavia,  where 
they  found  a  number  of  men  gathered  from  other 
points.  From  an  affidavit  taken  afterwards  it  seems 
the  object  of  the  party  was  to  destroy  Miller's  office, 
but  they  found  Miller  and  Morgan  had  been  warned. 
At  any  rate,  the  party  dispersed  without  doing  any 
thing.  Part  of  them  reassembled  at  Ganson's,  and 
charges  of  cowardice  were  freely  exchanged ;  certain 
of  the  leaders  were  afterwards  indicted  for  their  part 
in  this  affair,  but  no  trial  was  had. 

To  this  day  the  business  portion  of  Batavia 
stretches  along  both  sides  of  a  broad  main  street; 
instead  of  cross-streets  at  regular  intervals  there  are 
numerous  alleys  leading  off  the  main  street,  with  here 
and  there  a  wider  side  street.  In  those  days  nearly 
all  the  buildings  were  of  wood  and  but  one  or  two 
stories  in  height.  Miller's  printing-offices  occupied 
the  second  stories  of  two  wooden  buildings ;  a  side 
alley  separating  the  two  buildings,  dividing  also,  of 
course,  the  two  parts  of  the  printing  establishment. 

On  Sunday  night,  September  10,  fire  was  discovered 
under  the  stairways  leading  to  the  printing-offices ;  on 
extinguishing  the  blaze,  straw  and  cotton  balls  satu 
rated  with  turpentine  were  found  under  the  stairways, 
and  some  distance  from  the  buildings  a  dark  lantern 
was  found. 

On  this  same  Sunday  morning,  September  10,  a 
man — the  coroner  of  the  county — in  the  village  of 
Canandaigua,  fifty  miles  east  of  Batavia,  obtained 
from  a  justice  of  the  peace  a  warrant  for  the 
arrest  of  Morgan  on  the  charge  of  stealing  a  shirt 


i  io  On  an  Automobile 

and  a  cravat  in  the  month  of  May  from  an  innkeeper 
named  Kingsley. 

Having  obtained  the  warrant,  which  was  directed 
to  him  as  coroner,  the  complainant  called  a  constable, 
and  together  with  four  well-known  residents  of 
Canandaigua  they  hired  a  special  stage  and  started  for 
Batavia. 

At  Avon,  Caledonia,  and  Le  Roy  they  were  joined 
by  others  who  seemed  to  understand  that  Morgan  was 
to  be  arrested. 

At  Stafford  they  stopped  for  supper  at  Ganson's 
tavern.  After  supper  they  proceeded  towards  Ba 
tavia,  but  stopped  about  a  mile  and  a  half  east  of  the 
village,  certain  of  the  party  returning  with  the  stage. 

Arrest  of  Early  the  next  morning  Morgan  was  arrested,  and 

an  extra  stage  engaged  to  take  the  party  back.  The 
driver,  becoming  uneasy  as  to  the  regularity  of  the 
proceedings,  at  first  refused  to  start,  but  was  per 
suaded  to  go  as  far  as  Stafford,  where  Ganson — 
whom  the  driver  knew — said  everything  was  all  right 
and  that  he  would  assume  all  responsibility. 

At  About  sunset  of  the  same  day — Monday,  Septem 

ber  ii — they  arrived  at  Canandaigua,  and  Morgan 
was  at  once  examined  by  the  justice;  the  evidence  was 
held  insufficient  and  the  prisoner  discharged. 

The  same  complainant  immediately  produced  a 
claim  for  two  dollars  which  had  been  assigned  to 
him.  Morgan  admitted  the  debt,  confessed  judg 
ment,  and  pulled  off  his  coat,  offering  it  as  security. 


The  Morgan  Mystery  1 1 1 

The    constable    refused    to    take    the    coat    and    took 
Morgan  to  jail. 

Tuesday  noon,  September  12,  a  crowd  of  strangers  Arrest  of 
appeared  in  Batavia,  assembling  at  Donald's  tavern. 
A  constable  went  to  Miller's  office,  arrested  him,  and 
took  him  to  the  tavern,  where  he  was  detained  in  a 
room  for  about  two  hours.  He  was  then  put  in  an 
open  wagon  with  some  men,  all  strangers  to  him.  The 
constable  mounted  his  horse  and  the  party  proceeded 
to  Stafford.  Arriving  there  Miller  was  conducted  to 
the  third  story  of  the  stone  building  beside  the  creek, 
and  was  there  confined,  guarded  by  five  men. 

About  dusk  the  constable  and  the  crowd  took  Miller 
to  Le  Roy,  where  he  was  taken  before  the  justice  who 
had  issued  the  warrant,  when  all  his  prosecutors,  to 
gether  with  constable  and  warrant,  disappeared.  As 
no  one  appeared  against  the  prisoner,  the  justice  told 
him  he  was  at  liberty  to  go. 

From  the  docket  of  the  justice  it  appeared  that  the 
warrant  had  been  issued  at  the  request  of  Daniel 
Johns,  Miller's  partner. 

The  leaders  were  indicted  for  riot,  assault,  and  false 
imprisonment,  tried,  three  found  guilty  and  im 
prisoned.  At  the  trial  there  was  evidence  to  show 
that  on  the  morning  of  the  I2th  a  meeting  was  held 
in  the  third  story  of  the  stone  building  at  Stafford,  a 
leader  selected,  and  plans  arranged. 

On  the  evening  of  Tuesday  I2th  a  neighbor  of  Mor-  Atthejaiiin 
gan's  called  at  the  Canandaigua  jail  and  asked  to  see  Cananda>'z"a 
Morgan.  The  jailer  was  absent.  His  wife  permitted 


1 1  2  On  an  Automobile 

the  man  to  speak  to  Morgan,  and  the  man  said  that  he 
had  come  to  pay  the  debt  for  which  Morgan  was  com 
mitted  and  to  take  him  home.  Morgan  was  asked  if 
he  were  willing  to  go;  he  answered  that  he  was  will 
ing,  but  that  it  did  not  matter  particularly  that  night, 
for  he  could  just  as  well  wait  until  morning;  but  the 
man  said  "  No,"  that  he  would  rather  take  him  out 
that  night,  for  he  had  run  around  all  day  for  him 
and  was  very  tired  and  wished  to  get  home.  The  man 
offered  to  deposit  with  the  jailer's  wife  five  dollars 
as  security  for  the  payment  of  the  debt  and  all  costs, 
but  she  would  not  let  Morgan  out,  saying  that  she  did 
not  know  the  man  and  that  he  was  not  the  owner  of 
the  judgment. 

out  of  jail  The  man  went  out  and  was  gone  a  few  minutes, 

and  brought  back  a  well-known  resident  of  the  vil 
lage  of  Canandaigua  and  the  owner  of  the  judgment; 
these  two  men  said  that  it  was  all  right  for  the  jailer's 
wife  to  accept  two  dollars,  the  amount  of  the  judg 
ment,  and  release  Morgan.  Taking  the  money,  the 
woman  opened  the  inside  door  of  the  prison,  and 
Morgan  was  requested  to  get  ready  quickly  and  come 
out.  He  was  soon  ready,  and  walked  out  of  the  front 
door  between  the  man  who  had  called  for  him  and 
another.  The  jailer's  wife  while  fastening  the  inside 
prison-door  heard  a  cry  of  murder  near  the  outer  door 
of  the  jail,  and  running  to  the  door  she  saw  Morgan 
struggling  with  the  two  men  who  had  come  for  him. 
He  continued  to  scream  and  cry  in  the  most  distress 
ing  manner,  at  the  same  time  struggling  with  all  his 
strength;  his  voice  was  suppressed  by  something 
that  was  put  over  his  mouth,  and  a  man  following 


The  Morgan  Mystery  1 1  3 

behind  rapped  loudly  upon  the  well-curb  with  a  stick; 
a  carriage  came  up,  Morgan  was  put  in  it  by  the  two 
men  with  him,  and  the  carriage  drove  off.  It  was  a 
moonlight  night,  and  the  jailer's  wife  clearly  saw  all 
that  transpired,  and  even  remembered  that  the  horses 
were  gray.  Neither  the  man  who  made  the  complaint 
nor  the  resident  of  Canandaigua  who  came  to  the  jail 
and  advised  the  jailer's  wife  that  she  could  safely  let 
Morgan  go  went  with  the  carriage.  They  picked  up 
Morgan's  hat,  which  was  lost  in  the  struggle,  and 
watched  the  carriage  drive  away. 

The  account  given  by  the  wife  of  the  jailer  was 
corroborated  by  a  number  of  entirely  reliable  and 
reputable  witnesses. 

A  man  living  near  the  jail  went  to  the  door  of  his 
house  and  saw  the  men  struggling  in  the  street,  one 
of  them  apparently  down  and  making  noises  of  dis 
tress  ;  the  man  went  towards  the  struggling  man,  and 
asked  a  man  who  was  a  little  behind  the  others  what 
was  the  matter,  to  which  he  answered,  "  Nothing ; 
only  a  man  has  been  let  out  of  jail,  and  been  taken  on 
a  warrant,  and  is  going  to  be  tried,  or  have  his  trial." 

In  January  following,  when  the  feeling  was  grow 
ing  against  the  abductors  of  Morgan,  the  three  men 
in  Canandaigua  most  prominently  connected  with  all 
that  transpired  at  the  jail  on  the  night  in  question 
made  statements  in  court  under  oath,  which  admitted 
the  facts  to  be  substantially  as  above  outlined,  except 
they  insisted  that  they  did  not  know  why  Morgan 
struggled  before  getting  into  the  carriage.  These  men 
expressed  regret  that  they  did  not  go  to  the  assist 
ance  of  Morgan,  and  insisted  that  was  the  only  fault 

8 


ii4  ^n  an  Automobile 

they  committed  on  the  night  in  question.  They  ad 
mitted  that  they  understood  that  Morgan  was  com 
piling  a  book  on  the  subject  of  Masonry  at  the  insti 
gation  of  Miller  the  publisher  at  Batavia,  and  alleged 
that  he  was  getting  up  the  book  solely  for  pecuniary 
profit,  and  they  believed  it  was  desirable  to  remove 
Morgan  to  some  place  beyond  the  influence  of  Miller, 
where  his  friends  and  acquaintances  might  convince 
him  of  the  impropriety  of  his  conduct  and  persuade 
him  to  abandon  the  publication  of  the  book. 
Convictions  In  passing  sentence,  the  court  said : 

"  The  legislature  have  not  seen  fit,  perhaps,  from  the  sup 
posed  improbability  that  the  crime  would  be  attempted,  to 
make  your  offence  a  felony.  Its  grade  and  punishment  have 
been  left  to  the  provisions  of  the  common  law,  which  treats 
it  as  a  misdemeanor,  and  punishes  it  with  fine  and  imprison 
ment  in  the  common  jail.  The  court  are  of  opinion  that  your 
liberty  ought  to  be  made  to  answer  for  the  liberty  of  Mor 
gan :  his  person  was  restrained  by  force;  and  the  court,  in 
the  exercise  of  its  lawful  powers,  ought  not  to  be  more 
tender  of  your  liberty  than  you,  in  the  plenitude  of  lawless 
force,  were  of  his." 

What  they  Jt    Jg    qujte    cjear    tnat    up    tQ    tnis    tjme    nQne    Q£    ^ 

intended  to  do  J 

parties  connected  directly  or  indirectly  with  the  ab 
duction  of  Morgan  had  any  intention  whatsoever  of 
doing  him  bodily  harm.  If  such  had  been  their  pur 
pose,  the  course  they  followed  was  foolish  in  the  ex 
treme.  The  simple  fact  was  the  Masons  were  greatly 
excited  over  the  threatened  exposure  of  the  secrets 
of  their  order  by  one  of  their  own  members,  and  they 
desired  to  get  hold  of  the  manuscript  and  proofs  and 
prevent  the  publication,  and  the  misguided  hot-heads 


The  Morgan  Mystery  1 1 5 

who  were  active  in  the  matter  thought  that  by  getting 
Morgan  away  from  Miller  they  could  persuade  him 
to  abandon  his  project.  This  theory  is  borne  out  by 
the  fact  that  on  the  day  Morgan  was  taken  to  Canan- 
daigua  several  prominent  men  of  Batavia  called  upon 
Mrs.  Morgan  and  told  her  that  if  she  would  give  up 
to  the  Masons  the  papers  she  had  in  her  possession 
Morgan  would  be  brought  back.  She  gave  up  all  the 
papers  she  could  find ;  they  were  submitted  to  Johns, 
the  former  partner  of  Miller,  who  said  that  part  of 
the  manuscript  was  not  there.  However,  the  men 
took  Mrs.  Morgan  to  Canandaigua,  stopping  at  Avon 
over  night.  These  men  expected  to  find  Morgan  still 
in  Canandaigua,  but  were  surprised  to  learn  that  he 
had  been  taken  away  the  night  before,  whereupon 
Mrs.  Morgan,  having  left  her  two  small  children  at 
home,  returned  as  quickly  as  possible. 

So  far  as  Morgan's  manuscript  is  concerned,  it 
seems  that  a  portion  of  it  was  already  in  the  hands 
of  Miller,  and  another  portion  secreted  inside  of  a  bed 
at  the  time  he  was  arrested,  so  that  not  long  after  his 
disappearance  what  purports  to  be  his  book  was  pub 
lished. 

Nearly  two  years  later,  in  August,  1828,  three  men    The  midnight 
were  tried  for  conspiracy  to  kidnap  and  carry  away   ride 
Morgan.     At  that  time  it  was  believed  by  many  that 
Morgan    was    either    simply    detained    abroad    or    in 
hiding,  although  it  was  strenuously  insisted  by  others 
that  he  had  been  killed.     All  that  was  ever  known  of 
his  movements  after  he  left  the  jail  at  Canandaigua 
on  the  night  of  September   n   was  developed  in  the 
testimonv  taken  at  this  trial. 


n6 


On  an  Automobile 


Onto 
Rochester 


The  old  fort 


One  witness  who  saw  the  carriage  drive  past  the 
jail  testified  that  a  man  was  put  in  by  four  others, 
who  got  in  after  him  and  the  carriage  drove  away; 
the  witness  was  near  the  men  when  they  got  into  the 
carriage,  and  as  it  turned  west  he  heard  one  of  them 
cry  to  the  driver,  "  Why  don't  you  drive  faster?  why 
don't  you  drive  faster?" 

The  driver  testified  that  some  time  prior  to  the  date 
in  question  a  man  came  to  him  and  arranged  for  him 
to  take  a  party  to  Rochester  on  or  about  the  I2th. 
On  the  night  in  question  he  took  his  yellow  carriage 
and  gray  horses  about  nine  o'clock  and  drove  just  be 
yond  the  Canandaigua  jail  on  the  Palmyra  road.  A 
party  of  five  got  into  the  carriage,  but  he  heard  no 
noise  and  saw  no  resistance,  nor  did  he  know  any  of 
the  men.  He  was  told  to  go  on  beyond  Rochester, 
and  he  took  the  Lewiston  road.  On  arriving  at  Han- 
ford's  one  of  the  party  got  out;  he  then  drove  about 
one  hundred  yards  beyond  the  house,  stopping  near  a 
piece  of  woods,  where  the  others  who  were  in  the 
carriage  got  out,  and  he  turned  around  and  drove 
back. 

Another  man  who  lived  at  Lewiston  and  worked  as 
a  stage-driver  said  that  he  was  called  between  ten  and 
twelve  o'clock  at  night  and  told  to  drive  a  certain 
carriage  into  a  back  street  alongside  of  another  car 
riage  which  he  found  standing  there  without  any 
horse  attached  to  it;  some  men  were  standing  near 
it.  He  drove  alongside  the  carriage,  and  one  or  two 
men  got  out  of  it  and  got  into  his  hack.  He  saw  no 
violence,  but  on  stopping  at  a  point  about  six  miles 
farther  on  some  of  the  men  got  out,  and  while  they 


The  Morgan  Mystery  1 1 7 

were  conversing,  some  one  in  the  carriage  asked  for 
water  in  a  whining  voice,  to  which  one  of  the  men 
replied,  "  You  shall  have  some  in  a  moment."  No 
water  was  handed  to  the  person  in  the  carriage,  but 
the  men  got  in,  and  he  drove  them  on  to  a  point  about 
half  a  mile  from  Fort  Niagara,  where  they  told  him 
to  stop;  there  were  no  houses  there;  the  party,  four 
in  number,  got  out  and  proceeded  side  by  side  to 
wards  the  fort;  he  drove  back  with  his  carriage. 

A  man  living  in  Lewiston  swore  that  he  went  to  his 
door  and  saw  a  carriage  coming,  Which  went  a  little 
distance  farther  on,  stopping  beside  another  carriage 
which  was  in  the  street  without  horses ;  he  recognized 
the  driver  of  the  carriage  and  one  other  man;  he 
thought  something  strange  was  going  on  and  went 
into  his  garden,  where  he  had  a  good  view  of  what 
took  place  in  the  road ;  he  saw  a  man  go  from  the 
box  of  the  carriage  which  had  driven  by  to  the  one 
standing  in  the  street  and  open  the  door;  some  one 
got  out  backward  with  the  assistance  of  two  men  in 
the  carriage.  The  person  who  was  taken  out  had  no 
hat,  but  a  handkerchief  on  his  head,  and  appeared  to 
be  intoxicated  and  helpless.  They  took  him  to  the 
other  carriage  and  all  got  in.  One  of  the  men  went 
back  and  took  something  from  the  carriage  they  had 
left,  which  seemed  to  be  a  jug,  and  then  they  drove 
off. 

At  the  trial  in  question  the  testimony  of  a  man  by   in  the 
the  name  of  Giddins,  who  had  the  custody  of  old  Fort 
Niagara,  was  not  received  because  it  appeared  he  had 
no  religious  beliefs  whatsoever,  but  his  brother-in-law 
testified  that  on  a  certain  night  in  September,  shortly 


1 1 8  On  an  Automobile 

after  the  events  narrated,  he  was  staying  at  Giddins's 
house,  Which  was  twenty  or  thirty  rods  from  the 
magazine  of  the  old  fort;  that  before  going  to  the 
installation  of  the  lodge  at  Lewiston  he  went  with 
Giddins  to  the  magazine.  Previously  to  starting  out 
Giddins  had  a  pistol,  which  he  requested  the  witness 
to  carry,  but  witness  declined.  Giddins  had  some 
thing  else  with  him,  which  the  witness  did  not  recog 
nize.  When  they  came  within  about  two  rods  of  the 
magazine,  Giddins  went  up  to  the  door  and  something 
was  said  inside  the  door.  A  man's  voice  came  from 
inside  the  magazine ;  witness  was  alarmed,  and 
thought  he  had  better  get  out  of  the  way,  and  he  at 
once  retreated,  followed  soon  after  by  Giddins. 

From  the  old  records  it  seemed  that  the  evidence 
tracing  Morgan  to  the  magazine  of  old  Fort  Niagara 
was  satisfactory  to  court  and  jury ;  but  what  became 
of  him  no  man  knows.  In  January,  1827,  the  fort  and 
magazine  were  visited  by  certain  committees  appointed 
to  make  investigations,  who  reported  in  detail  the  con 
dition  of  the  magazine,  which  seemed  to  indicate  that 
some  one  had  been  confined  therein  not  long  before, 
and  that  the  prisoner  had  made  violent  and  reiterated 
efforts  to  force  his  way  out.  A  good  many  hearsay 
statements  were  taken  to  the  effect  that  Morgan  was 
as  a  matter  of  fact  put  in  the  magazine  and  kept  there 
some  days. 

Governor  De  Witt  Clinton  issued  three  proclama 
tions,  two  soon  after  September,  1826,  and  the  last 
dated  March  19,  1827,  offering  rewards  for  "  Authen 
tic  information  of  the  place  where  the  said  William 
Morgan  has  been  conveyed,"  and  "  for  the  discovery 


The  Morgan  Mystery  1 1 9 

of  the  said  William  Morgan,  if  alive;  and,  if  mur 
dered,  a  reward  of  two  thousand  dollars  for  the 
discovery  of  the  offender  or  offenders,  etc." 

In  the  autumn  of  1827  a  body  was  cast  up  on  the    The  end 
shore  of  Lake  Ontario  near  the  mouth  of  Oak  Orchard 
Creek.     Mrs.  Morgan  and  a  Dr.  Strong  identified  the 
body  as  that  of  William  Morgan  by  a  scar  on  the  foot 
and  by  the  teeth. 

The  identification  was  disputed ;  the  disappearance 
of  Morgan  was  then  a  matter  of  politics,  and  the  anti- 
masons,  headed  by  Thurlow  Weed,  originated  the  say 
ing,  "  It's  a  good  enough  Morgan  for  us  until  you 
produce  the  live  one,"  which  afterwards  become  cur 
rent  political  slang  in  the  form,  "  It's  a  good  enough 
Morgan  until  after  election." 


THE  MUD 


CHAPTER   NINE 

THROUGH    WESTERN    NEW    YORK 


THE  afternoon  was  drawing  to  a  close,  the  rain  had 
partially  subsided,  but  the  trees  were  heavy  with 
water,  and  the  streets  ran  rivulets. 

out  of  Le  Roy  Prudence  would  seem  to  dictate  remaining  in  Le 
Roy  over-night,  but,  so  far  as  roads  are  concerned,  it 
is  always  better  to  start  out  in,  or  immediately  after, 
a  rain  than  to  wait  until  the  water  has  soaked  in 
and  made  the  mud  deep.  A  heavy  rain  washes  the 
surface  off  the  roads ;  it  is  better  not  to  give  it 
time  to  penetrate;  we  therefore  determined  to  start 
at  once. 

120 


Through  Western  New   York      i  2 1 

There  was  not  a  soul  on  the  streets  as  we  pulled 
out  a  few  moments  after  five  o'clock,  and  in  the  entire 
ride  of  some  thirty  miles  we  met  scarcely  more  than 
three  or  four  teams. 

We  took  the  road  by  Bergen  rather  than  through 
Caledonia ;  both  roads  are  good,  but  in  very  wet 
weather  the  road  from  Bergen  to  Rochester  is  apt 
to  be  better  than  that  from  Caledonia,  as  it  is  more 
sandy. 

To  Bergen,  eight  miles,  we  found  hard  gravel,  with 
one  steep  hill  to  descend ;  from  Bergen  in,  it  was 
sandy,  and  after  the  rain,  was  six  inches  deep  in 
places  with  soft  mud. 

It  was  slow  progress  and  eight  o'clock  when  we 
pulled  into  Rochester. 

We  were  given  rooms  where  all  the  noises  of  street   Rochester 
and  trolley  could  be  heard  to  best  advantage ;    sleep 
was  a  struggle,  rest  an  impossibility. 

Hotel  construction  has  quite  kept  pace  with  the 
times,  but  hotel  location  is  a  tradition  of  the  dark  ages, 
when  to  catch  patrons  it  was  necessary  to  get  in  their 
way. 

At  Syracuse  the  New  York  Central  passes  through 
the  principal  hotels, — the  main  tracks  bisecting  the 
dining-rooms,  with  side  tracks  down  each  corridor 
and  a  switch  in  each  bed-room ;  but  this  is  an  extreme 
instance. 

It  was  well  enough  in  olden  times  to  open  taverns   Hotels  on 
on  the  highways;    an  occasional  coach  would  furnish  hi*hways 
the  novelty  and  break  the  monotony,  but  people  could 
sleep. 


122  On  an  Automobile 

The  erection  of  hotels  in  close  proximity  to  railroad 
tracks,  or  upon  the  main  thoroughfares  of  cities  where 
stone  or  asphalt  pavements  resound  to  every  hoof- 
fall,  and  where  street  cars  go  whirring  and  clang 
ing  by  all  night  long,  is  something  more  than  an 
anachronism  ;  it  is  a  fiendish  disregard  of  human 
comfort. 

Paradoxical  as  it  may  seem,  —  a  pious  but  garrulous 
old  gentleman  was  one  time  invited  to  lead  in  prayer  ; 
consenting,  he  approached  the  throne  of  grace  with 
becoming  humility,  saying,  "  Paradoxical  as  it  may 
seem,  O  Lord,  it  is  nevertheless  true,"  etc.,  the  phrase 
is  a  good  one,  it  lingers  in  the  ear,  —  therefore,  once 
more,  —  paradoxical  as  it  may  seem,  it  is  nevertheless 
true  that  those  who  go  about  all  day  in  machines  do 
not  like  to  be  disturbed  by  machines  at  night. 


villages  versus  |  We  soon  learned  to  keep  away  from  the  cities  at 
Inight.  It  is  so  much  more  delightful  to  stop  in  smaller 
^towns  and  villages  ;  your  host  is  glad  to  see  you  ;  you 
are  quite  the  guest  of  honor,  perhaps  the  only  guest; 
there  is  a  place  in  the  adjoining  stable  for  the  ma 
chine;  the  men  are  interested,  and  only  too  glad  to 
care  for  it  and  help  in  the  morning;  the  best  the 
house  affords  is  offered  ;  as  a  rule  the  rooms  are  quite 
good,  the  beds  clean,  and  nowadays  many  of  these 
small  hotels  have  rooms  with  baths  ;  the  table  is  plain  ; 
but  while  automobiling  one  soon  comes  to  prefer  plain 
country  living. 

In  the  larger  cities  it  costs  a  fortune  in  tips  before 
the  machine  and  oneself  are  well  housed  ;  to  enter 
Albany,  Boston,  or  New  York  at  night,  find  your 


Through  Western   New  York      123 

hotel,  find  the  automobile  station,  find  your  luggage, 
and  find  yourself,  is  a  bore. 

No  one  who  has  ever  ridden  day  after  day  in  the  city  riding 
country  cares  anything  about  riding  in  cities ;  it  is  as 
artificial  and  monotonous  as  riding  a  hunter  over  pave 
ments.  If  one  could  just  approach  a  city  at  night, 
steal  into  it,  enjoy  its  lights  and  shadows,  its  confu 
sion  and  strange  sounds,  all  in  passing,  and  slip 
through  without  stopping  long  enough  to  feel  the 
thrust  of  the  reality,  it  would  be  delightful.  But  the 
charm  disappears,  the  dream  is  brought  to  earth,  the 
vision  becomes  tinsel  when  you  draw  up  in  front  of 
a  big  caravansary  and  a  platoon  of  uniformed  porters, 
bell-boys,  and  pages  swoop  down  upon  everything  you 
have,  including  your  pocket-book ;  then  the  Olympian 
clerk  looks  at  you  doubtfully,  puzzled  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  does  not  know  whether  you  are  a 
mill-hand  from  Pittsburg  who  should  be  assigned  a 
hall  bed-room  in  the  annex,  or  a  millionaire  from 
Newport  who  should  be  tendered  the  entire  establish 
ment  on  a  silver  platter. 

The  direct  road  from  Rochester  to  Syracuse  is  by   out  of 
way  of   Pittsford,   Palmyra,   Newark,   Lyons,   Clyde,   Rochester 
Port  Byron,  and  Camillus,  but  it  is  neither  so  good 
nor  so  interesting  as  the  old  roads  through  Geneva 
and  Auburn. 

In  going  from  Buffalo  to  Albany  via  Syracuse, 
Rochester  is  to  the  north  and  some  miles  out  of  the 
way ;  unless  one  especially  desires  to  visit  the  city, 
it  is  better  to  leave  it  to  one  side. 


124  O°  an  Automobile 

Genesee  Street  out  of  Buffalo  is  Genesee  Street 
into  Syracuse  and  Utica;  it  is  the  old  highway  be 
tween  Buffalo  and  Albany,  and  may  be  followed  to-day 
from  end  to  end. 

Instead  of  turning  to  the  northeast  at  Batavia  and 
going  through  Newkirk,  Byron,  Bergen,  North  Chili, 
and  Gates  to  Rochester,  keep  more  directly  east 
through  Le  Roy,  Caledonia,  Avon,  and  Canandaigua 
to  Geneva ;  the  towns  are  old,  the  hotels,  most  of  them, 
good,  the  roads  are  generally  gravel  and  the  country 
interesting;  it  is  old  New  York.  No  one  driving 
through  the  State  for  pleasure  would  think  of  taking 
the  direct  road  from  Rochester  to  Syracuse;  the 
beautiful  portions  of  this  western  end  of  the  State 
are  to  the  south,  in  the  Genesee  and  Wyoming  Valleys, 
and  through  the  lake  region. 

By  way  of  \ye  jeft  Rochester  at  ten  o'clock,  Saturday,  the  24th, 

J?<ryht 

intending  to  go  east  by  Egypt,  Macedon,  Palmyra, — 
the  Oriental  route,  as  my  Companion  called  it;  but 
after  leaving  Pittsford  we  missed  the  road  and  lost 
ourselves  among  the  hills,  finding  several  grades  so 
steep  and  soft  that  we  both  were  obliged  to  dismount. 

An  old  resident  was  decidedly  of  the  opinion  that 
the  roads  to  the  southeast  were  better  than  those  to 
the  northeast,  and  we  turned  from  the  Nile  route 
towards  Canandaigua. 

Though  the  roads  were  decidedly  better,  in  many 
places  being  well  gravelled,  the  heavy  rains  of  the 
previous  two  days  made  the  going  slow,  and  it  was 
one-thirty  before  we  pulled  up  at  the  old  hotel  in 
Canandaigua  for  dinner. 


Through  Western   New  York      125 

As   the  machine   had  been   there  before,   we   were  Sambo 
greeted  as  friends.     The  old  negro  porter  is  a  char 
acter, — quite  the  irresponsible  head  of  the  entire  estab 
lishment. 

"  Law's  sakes !  you  heah  agen  ?  glad  to  see  you ; 
whar  you  come  from  dis  time?  Rochester!  No,  foh 
sure? — dis  mawning? — you  doan  say  so;  that  jes' 
beats  me ;  to  think  I  live  to  see  a  thing  like  that ;  it's 
a  reg'lar  steam-engine,  aint  it?" 

"  Sambo,"  called  out  a  bystander,  making  fun  of  the 
old  darkey,  "  do  you  know  what  you  are  looking  at  ?" 

"  Well,  if  I  doan,  den  I  can't  find  out  frum  dis  yere 
crowd." 

"What  do  they  call  it,  Sambo?"  some  one  else 
asked. 

u  Sh-sh'h — that's  a  secret ;  an'  if  I  shud  tell  you, 
YOU  cudn't  keep  it." 

"Is  it  yours?" 

"  I  dun  sole  mine  to  Mistah  Vand'bilt  las'  week ; 
he  name  it  de  White  Ghos' — after  me." 

"  You  mean  the  Black  Devil." 

"  No,  I  doan ;  he  didn't  want  to  hu't  youah  feel 
ings  ;  Mistah  Vand'bilt  a  very  consid'rate  man." 

Sambo  carried  our  things  in,  talking  all  the  time. 

"  Now  you  jes'  go  right  into  dinnah;  I'll  take  keer 
of  the  auto'bile;  I'll  see  that  nun  of  those  ign'rant 
folk  stannin'  roun'  lay  their  han's  on  it;  they  think 
Sambo  doan  know  an  auto'bile ;  didn't  I  see  you  heah 
befoh  ?  an'  didn't  I  hole  de  hose  when  you  put  de  watah 
in?  Me  an'  you  are  de  only  two  pussons  in  dis  whole 
town  who  knows  about  de  auto'bile, — jes'  me  an' 
you." 


126 


On  an  Automobile 


To  Geneva 


The  roof 
garden 


After  dinner  we  rode  down  the  broad  main  street 
and  around  the  lake  to  the  left  in  going  to  Geneva. 
Barring  the  fact  that  the  roads  were  soft  in  places,  the 
afternoon's  ride  was  delightful,  the  roads  being  gen 
erally  very  good. 

It  was  about  five  o'clock  when  we  came  to  the  top 
of  the  hills  overlooking  Geneva  and  the  silvery  lake 
beyond.  It  was  a  sight  not  to  be  forgotten  by  the 
American  traveller,  for  this  country  has  few  towns 
so  happily  situated  as  the  village  of  Geneva, — a  cluster 
of  houses  against  a  wooded  slope  with  the  lake  like 
a  mirror  below. 

The  little  hotel  was  almost  new  and  very  good ;  the 
rooms  were  large  and  comfortable.  There  was  but 
one  objection,  and  that  the  location  at  the  very  corner 
of  the  busiest  and  noisiest  streets.  But  Geneva  goes 
to  bed  early, — even  on  Saturday  nights, — and  by  ten 
or  eleven  o'clock  the  streets  were  quiet,  while  on  Sun 
day  mornings  there  is  nothing  to  disturb  one  before 
the  bells  ring  for  church. 

We  were  quite  content  to  rest  this  first  Sunday  out. 

It  was  so  delightfully  quiet  all  the  morning  that  we 
lounged  about  and  read  until  dinner-time.  In  the 
afternoon  a  walk,  and  in  the  evening  friends  came  to 
supper  with  us.  In  a  moment  of  ambitious  emulation 
of  metropolitan  customs  the  small  hotel  had  estab 
lished  a  roof  garden,  with  music  two  or  three  even 
ings  a  week,  but  the  innovation  had  not  proven  profit 
able;  the  roof  remained  with  some  iron  framework 
that  once  supported  awnings,  several  disconsolate 
tables,  and  some  lonesome  iron  chairs ;  we  visited  this 


Through  Western  New  York      1 27 

scene  of  departed  glory  and  obtained  a  view  of  the 
lake  at  evening. 

The  irregular  outlines  of  the  long  shadows  of  the 
hills  stretched  far  out  over  the  still  water ;  beyond 
these  broken  lines  the  slanting  rays  of  the  setting  sun 
fell  upon  the  surface  of  the  lake,  making  it  to  shine 
like  a  mass  of  burnished  silver. 

Some  white  sails  glimmered  in  the  light  far  across ; 
near  by  we  caught  the  sound  of  church-bells ;  the  twi 
light  deepened,  the  shadows  lengthened,  the  luminous 
stretch  of  water  grew  narrower  and  narrower  until  it 
disappeared  entirely  and  all  was  dark  upon  the  lake, 
save  here  and  there  the  twinkle  of  lights  from  moving 
boats, — shifting  stars  in  the  void  of  night. 

The  morning  was  bright  as  we  left  Geneva,  but  the   Geneva  to 
roads,  until  we  struck  the  State  road,  were  rough  and 
still  muddy  from  the  recent  rains. 

It  was  but  a  short  run  to  Auburn,  and  from  there 
into  Syracuse  the  road  is  a  fine  gravel. 

The  machine  had  developed  a  slight  pounding  and   Syracuse 
the   rear-axle  showed  signs  of  again  parting  at  the 
differential. 

After  luncheon  the  machine  was  run  into  a  machine 
shop,  and  three  hours  were  spent  in  taking  up  the  lost 
motion  in  the  eccentric  strap,  at  the  crank-pin,  and  in 
a  loose  bushing. 

On  opening  up  the  differential  gear  case  both  set- 
screws  holding  the  axles  \vere  found  loose.  The  fac 
tory  had  been  most  emphatically  requested  to  put  in 
larger  keys  so  as  to  fit  the  key-ways  snugly  and  to 


128 


On  an  Automobile 


Oneida 


In  the  hotel 
office 


lock  these  set-screws  in  some  way — neither  of  these 
things  had  been  done;  and  both  halves  of  the  rear- 
axle  were  on  the  verge  of  working  out. 

Small  holes  were  bored  through  the  set-screws, 
wires  passed  through  and  around  the  shoulders  of 
the  gears,  and  we  had  no  further  trouble  from  this 
source. 

It  was  half-past  five  before  we  left  Syracuse  for 
Oneida.  The  road  is  good,  and  the  run  of  twenty- 
seven  miles  was  made  in  little  over  two  hours,  arriving 
at  the  small,  old-fashioned  tavern  in  Oneida  at  exactly 
seven  forty-five. 

A  number  of  old-timers  dropped  into  the  hotel  office 
that  evening  to  see  what  was  going  on  and  hear  about 
the  strange  machine.  Great  stories  were  exchanged 
on  all  sides ;  the  glories  of  Oneida  quite  eclipsed  the 
lesser  claims  of  the  automobile  to  fame  and  notoriety, 
for  it  seemed  that  some  of  the  best  known  men  of 
New  York  and  Chicago  were  born  in  the  village  or 
the  immediate  vicinity;  the  land- marks  remain,  tradi 
tions  are  intact,  the  men  departed  to  seek  their  for 
tunes  elsewhere,  but  their  successes  are  the  town's 
fame. 

The  genial  proprietor  of  the  hotel  carried  his 
seventy-odd  years  and  two  hundred  and  sixty  pounds 
quite  handily  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  moving  with  com 
mendable  celerity  from  office  to  bar-room,  supplying 
us  in  the  front  room  with  information  and  those  in 
the  back  with  refreshment. 

"  So  you  never  heard  that  those  big  men  were  born 


Through  Western  New  York      129 

in  this  locality.  That's  strange ;  tho't  ev'rybody  knew 
that.  Why  'Neida  has  produced  more  famous  men 
than  any  town  same  size  in  'Merika, — Russell  Sage, 
General  New, — comin'  "  (to  those  in  the  bar-room)  ; 
"  say,  you  fellers/  can't  you  wait  ?"  As  he  disap 
peared  in  the  rear  we  heard  his  rotund  voice, ft  What'll 
you  take?  Was  jest  tellin'  that  chap  with  the  threshin'- 
maohine  a  thing  or  two  about  this  country.  Rye?  no, 
that's  Bourbon — the  reel  corn  juice — ten  years  in 
wood " 

"  Mixed  across  the  street  at  the  drug  store — ha !  ha ! 
ha !"  interrupted  some  one. 

"  Don't  be  faceshus,  Sam ;  this  ain't  no  sody-foun- 
tin." 

"  Where'd  that  feller  cum  frum  with  his  steam 
pianer, — Syr'cuse  ?" 

"  Naw  !  '  Chicago." 

"  Great  cranberries !  you  don't  say  so, — all  the  way 
from  Chicago  !  When  did  he  start  ?" 

"  Day  'fore  yesterday,"  replied  the  old  man,  and  we 
could  hear  him  putting  back  the  bottles-;  a  chorus  of 
voices, — 

"  What !" 

"  Holy  Mo— 

"  Day  afore  yester — say,  look  here,  you're  jokin'." 

"  Mebbe  I  am,  but  if  you  don't  believe  it,  ask  him." 

"  Why  Chicago  is  further'n  Buf'lo — an'  that's 
faster'n  a  train." 

"  Yes,"  drawled  the  old  man ;  "  he  passed  the  Em 
pire  Express  th'  other  side  Syr'cuse." 

"  Get  out." 

"What  do  you  take  us  fer?" 
9 


130  On  an  Automobile 

"  Wall,  when  you  cum  in,  I  took  you  fer  fellers  who 
knowed  the  diff'rence  betwixt  whiskey  and  benzine, 
but  I  see  my  mistake.  You  fellers  shud  buy  your 
alc'hol  across  the  way  at  the  drug  store ;  it  don't  cost 
s'  much,  and  burns  better." 

"  Thet's  one  on  us.  Your  whiskey  is  all  right, 
grandpa,  the  reel  corn  juice — ten  year  in  wood — too 
long  in  bottl' — spile  if  left  over  night,  so  pull  the 
stopper  once  more." 


IN  THE 


CHAPTER   TEN 

THE    MOHAWK    VALLEY 


ON  looking  over  the  machine  the  next  morning, 
Tuesday,  the  27th,  the  large  cap-screws  holding  the 
bearings  of  the  main-shaft  were  found  slightly  loose. 
The  wrench  with  the  machine  was  altogether  too  light 
to  turn  these  screws  up  as  tight  as  they  should  be;  it 
was  therefore  necessary  to  have  a  wrench  made  from 
tool  steel ;  that  required  about  half  an  hour,  but  it 
was  time  well  spent. 

The  road  from  Oneida  to  Utica  is  very  good;  roll- 
ing  but  no  steep  grades;  some  sand,  but  not  deep; 
some  clay,  but  not  rough;  for  the  most  part  gravel. 


Utica 


132  On  an  Automobile 

The  run  of  twenty  miles  was  quickly  made.  We 
stopped  only  for  a  moment  to  inquire  for  letters  and 
then  on  to  Herkimer  by  the  road  on  the  north  side 
of  the  valley.  Returning  some  weeks  later  we  came 
by  the  south  road,  through  Frankford,  between  the 
canal  and  the  railroad  tracks,  through  Mohawk  and 
Ilion.  This  is  the  better  known  and  the  main  travelled 
road ;  but  it  is  far  inferior  to  the  road  on  the  north ; 
there  are  more  hills  on  the  latter,  some  of  the  grades 
being  fairly  steep,  but  in  dry  weather  the  north  road 
is  more  picturesque  and  more  delightful  in  every  way, 
while  in  wet  weather  there  is  less  deep  mud. 

At  Herkimer,  eighteen  and  one-half  miles  from 
Utica  and  thirty-eight  from  Oneida,  we  had  luncheon, 
then  inquired  for  gasoline.  Most  astonishing!  in  the 
entire  village  no  gasoline  to  be  had.  A  town  of  most 
respectable  size,  hotel  quite  up  to  date,  large  brick 
blocks  of  stores,  enterprise  apparent — but  no  gasoline. 
Only  one  man  handled  it  regularly,  an  old  man  who 
drove  about  the  country  with  his  tank-wagon  dis 
tributing  kerosene  and  gasoline;  he  had  no  place  of 
business  but  his  house,  and  he  happened  to  be  entirely 
out  of  gasoline.  In  two  weeks  the  endurance  run  of 
the  Automobile  Club  of  America  would  be  through 
there;  at  Herkimer  those  in  the  contest  were  to  stop 
for  the  night, — and  no  gasoline. 

In  the  entire  pilgrimage  of  over  two  thousand 
miles  through  nine  States  and  the  province  of  On 
tario,  we  did  not  find  a  town  or  village  of  any  size 
where  gasoline  could  not  be  obtained,  and  fre 
quently  we  found  it  at  cross-road  stores, — but  not 
at  Herkimer. 


The  Mohawk  Valley  133 

Happily  there  was  sufficient  gasoline  in  the  tank  to 
carry  us  on;  besides,  we  always  had  a  gallon  in  re 
serve.  At  the  next  village  we  found  all  we  needed. 

When  we  returned  through  Herkimer  some  weeks 
later  nearly  every  store  had  gasoline. 

If  hotels,  stables,  and  drug  stores,  wherever  automo-    Gasolin 
biles  are  apt  to  come,  would  keep  a  five-gallon  can   ***** 
of  gasoline  on  hand,  time  and  trouble  would  be  saved, 
and  drivers  of  automobiles  would  be  only  too  glad  to 
pay  an  extra  price  for  the  convenience. 

The  grades  of  gasoline  sold  in  this  country  vary 
from  the  common  so-called  "  stove  gasoline,"  or  sixty- 
eight,  to  seventy-four. 

The  country  dealers  are  becoming  wise  in  their 
generation,  and  all  now  insist  they  keep  only  seventy- 
four.  As  a  matter  of  fact  nearly  all  that  is  sold  in 
both  cities  and  country  is  the  "  stove  gasoline,"  be 
cause  it  is  kept  on  hand  principally  for  stoves  and 
torches,  and  they  do  not  require  higher  than  sixty- 
eight.  In  fact,  one  is  fortunate  if  the  gasoline  tests 
so  high  as  that. 

American  machines,  as  a  rule,  get  along  very  well 
with  the  low  grades,  but  many  of  the  foreign  ma 
chines  require  the  better  grades.  If  a  machine  will 
not  use  commercial  stove  gasoline,  the  only  safe  thing 
is  to  carry  a  supply  of  higher  grade  along,  and  that 
is  a  nuisance. 

It  is  difficult  to  find  a  genuine  seventy-four  even  in 
the  cities,  since  it  is  commonly  sold  only  in  barrels. 
If  the  exhaust  of  a  gasoline  stationary  engine  is  heard 
anywhere  along  the  road-side,  stop,  for  there  will  gen- 


134  ^n  an  Automobile 

erally  be  found  a  barrel  or  two  of  the  high-grade,  and 
a  supply  may  be  laid  in. 

The  best  plan,  however,  is  to  have  a  carburetor  and 
motor  that  will  use  the  ordinary  "  stove-grade ;"  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  it  contains  more  carbon  and  more 
explosive  energy  if  thoroughly  ignited,  but  it  does  not 
make  gas  so  readily  in  cold  weather  and  requires  a 
good  hot  spark. 

in  the  valley  All  day  we  rode  on  through  the  valley,  now  far  up 
on  the  hill-sides,  now  down  by  the  meadows ;  past 
Palatine  Church,  Palatine  Bridge ;  through  Fonda  and 
Amsterdam  to  Schenectady. 

It  was  a  glorious  ride.  The  road  winds  along  the 
side  of  the  valley,  following  the  graceful  curves  and 
swellings  of  the  hills.  The  little  towns  are  so  lost  in 
the  recesses  that  one  conies  upon  them  quite  unex 
pectedly,  and,  whirling  through  their  one  long  main 
street,  catches  glimpses  of  quaint  churches  and  build 
ings  which  fairly  overhang  the  highway,  and  narrow 
vistas  of  lawns,  trees,  shrubbery,  and  flowers ;  then 
all  is  hidden  by  the  next  bend  in  the  road. 

During  the  long  summer  afternoon  we  sped  onward 
through  this  beautiful  valley.  Far  down  on  the  tracks 
below  trains  would  go  scurrying  by ;  now  and  then  a 
slow  freight  would  challenge  our  competition ;  train 
men  would  look  up  curiously ;  occasionally  an  engi 
neer  would  sound  a  note  of  defiance  or  a  blast  of 
victory  with  his  whistle. 

The  distant  river  followed  lazily  along,  winding- 
hither  and  thither  through  the  lowland,  now  skirting 


The  Mohawk  Valley  135 

the  base  of  the  hills,  now  bending  far  to  the  other  side 
as  if  resentful  of  such  rude  obstructions  to  its  once 
impetuous  will. 

Far  across  on  the  distant  slopes  we  could  see  the 
cattle  grazing,  and  farther  still  tiny  specks  that  were 
human  beings  like  ourselves  moving  upon  the  land 
scape.  Nature's  slightest  effort  dwarfs  man's  might 
iest  achievements.  That  great  railroad  with  its  many 
tracks  and  rushing  trains  seemed  a  child's  plaything, 
— a  noisy,  whirring,  mechanical  toy  beside  the  lazy 
river ;  for  did  not  that  placid,  murmuring,  meandering 
stream  in  days  gone  by  hollow  out  this  valley?  did 
not  nature  in  moments  of  play  rear  those  hills  and 
carve  out  those  distant  mountains?  Compared  with 
these  traces  of  giant  handiwork,  what  are  the  works  of 
man?  just  little  putterings  for  our  own  conveni 
ence,  just  little  utilizations  of  waste  energies  for  our 
own  purposes. 

One  should  view  nature  with  the  setting  sun.     It   By  sunset 
may  gratify  a  bustling  curiosity  to  see  nature  at  her 
toilet,  but  that  is  the  part  of  a  "  Peeping  Tom." 

The  hour  of  sunrise  is  the  hour  for  work,  it  is  the 
hour  when  every  living  thing  feels  the  impulse  to  do 
something.  The  birds  do  not  fly  to  the  tree-tops  to 
view  the  morning  sun,  the  animals  do  not  rush  forth 
from  their  lairs  to  watch  the  landscape  lighten  with 
the  morning's  glow ;  no,  all  nature  is  refreshed  and 
eager  to  be  doing,  not  seeing ;  acting,  not  thinking. 
Man  is  no  exception  to  this  all-embracing  rule;  his 
innate  being  protests  against  idleness ;  the  most  secret 


136  On  an  Automobile 

cells  of  his  organization  are  charged  to  overflowing 
with  energy  and  demand  relief  in  work. 

Morning  is  not  the  hour  for  contemplation ;  but 
when  evening  conies,  as  the  sun  sinks  towards  the 
west,  and  lengthening  shadows  make  it  seem  as  if  all 
nature  were  stretching  herself  in  repose,  then  do  we 
love  to  rest  and  contemplate  the  rich  loveliness  of  the 
earth  and  the  infinite  tenderness  of  the  heavens. 
Every  harsh  line,  every  glare  of  light,  every  crude 
tone  has  disappeared.  We  stroke  nature  and  she 
purrs.  We  sink  at  our  ease  in  a  bed  of  moss  and 
nature  nestles  at  our  side ;  we  linger  beside  the  silvery 
brook  and  it  sings  to  us;  we  listen  attentively  to  the 
murmuring  trees  and  they  whisper  to  us;  we  gaze 
upon  the  frowning  hills  and  they  smile  upon  us.  And 
by  and  by  as  the  shadows  deepen  all  outlines  are  lost, 
and  we  see  vaguely  the  great  masses  of  tone  and  color ; 
nature  becomes  heroic ;  the  petty  is  dissolved ;  the 
insignificant  is  lost;  hills  and  trees  and  streams  are 
blended  in  one  mighty  composition,  in  the  presence  of 
which  all  but  the  impalpable  soul  of  man  is  as  nothing. 

TO  Albany  We   left    Sclienectady   at   nine   o'clock,   taking   the 

Troy  road  as  far  as  Latham's  Corners,  then  to  the 
right  into  Albany. 

We  reached  the  city  at  half-past  ten.  Albany  is 
not  a  convenient  place  for  automobiles.  There  are  no 
special  stations  for  the  storing  of  machines,  and  the 
stables  are  most  inaccessible  on  account  of  the  hills 
and  steep  approaches. 


THE  SICK   TURKEY 


CHAPTER   ELEVEN 

THE    VALLEY    OF   LEBANON 


IT  was  four  o'clock,  next  day,  when  we  left  Albany,   over  the  ridges 
going  down  Green  Street  and  crossing  the  long  bridge, 
taking  the  straight  road  over  the  ridges  for  Pittsfield. 

Immediately  on  leaving  the  eastern  end  of  the  bridge 
the  ascent  of  a  long  steep  grade  is  begun.  This  is  the 
first  ridge,  and  from  this  on  for  fifteen  miles  is  a 
succession  of  ridges,  steep  rocky  hills,  and  precipitous 
declines.  These  continue  until  Brainerd  is  reached, 
where  the  valley  of  Lebanon  begins. 

These  ridges  can  be  partially  avoided  by  turning 
down  the  Hudson  to  the  right  after  crossing  the  bridge 


138  On  an  Automobile 

and  making  a  detour  to  Brainerd ;  the  road  is  about 
five  miles  longer,  but  is  very  commonly  taken  by 
farmers  going  to  the  city  with  heavy  loads,  and  may 
well  be  taken  by  all  who  wish  to  avoid  a  series  of  stiff 
grades. 

Many  farmers  were  amazed  to  hear  we  had  come 
over  the  hills  instead  of  going  around,  and  wondered 
how  the  machine  managed  to  do  it. 

Some  popular  Popular  notions  concerning  the  capabilities  of  a  ma 
chine  are  interesting;  people  estimate  its  strength  and 
resources  by  those  of  a  horse.  In  speaking  of  roads, 
farmers  seem  to  assume  the  machine — like  the  horse 
—will  not  mind  one  or  two  hills,  no  matter  how  steep, 
but  that  it  will  mind  a  series  of  grades,  even  though 
none  are  very  stiff. 

Steam  and  electric  automobiles  do  tire, — that  is, 
long  pulls  through  heavy  roads  or  up  grades  tell  on 
them, — the  former  has  trouble  in  keeping  up  steam, 
the  latter  rapidly  consumes  its  store  of  electricity. 
The  gasoline  machine  does  not  tire.  Within  its  limi 
tations  it  can  keep  going  indefinitely,  and  it  is  im 
material  whether  it  is  up  or  down  grade — save  in  the 
time  made;  it  will  go  all  day  through  deep  mud,  or 
up  steep  hills,  quite  as  smoothly,  though  by  no  means 
so  fast,  as  on  the  level;  but  let  it  come  to  one  hole, 
spot,  or  hill  that  is  just  beyond  the  limit  of  its  power, 
and  it  is  stuck ;  it  has  no  reserve  force  to  draw  upon. 
The  steam  machine  can  stop  a  moment,  accumulate 
two  or  three  hundred  pounds  of  steam,  open  the 
throttle  and,  for  a  few  moments,  exert  twice  its  nor 
mal  energy  to  get  out  of  the  difficulty. 


The  Valley  of  Lebanon  139 

It  is  not  a  series  of  hills  that  deters  the  gasoline 
operator,  but  the  one  hill,  the  one  grade,  the  one  bad 
place,  which  is  just  beyond  the  power  he  has  avail 
able.  The  road  the  farmer  calls  good  may  have  that 
one  bad  place  or  hill  in  it,  and  must  therefore  be 
avoided.  The  road  that  is  pronounced  bad  may  be, 
every  foot  of  it,  well  within  the  power  of  the  machine, 
and  is  therefore  the  road  to  take. 

In  actual  road  work  the  term  "  horse-power"  is  very   Horse-power 
misleading. 

When  steam-engines  in  early  days  began  to  take  the 
place  of  horses,  they  were  rated  as  so  many  horse 
power  according  to  the  number  of  horses  they  dis 
placed.  It  then  became  important  to  find  out  what 
was  the  power  of  the  horse.  Observing  the  strong 
dray  horses  used  by  the  London  breweries,  Watt 
found  that  a  horse  could  go  two  and  one-half  miles 
per  hour  and  at  the  same  time  raise  a  weight  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  suspended  by  a  rope  over  a 
pulley ;  this  is  equivalent  to  thirty-three  thousand 
pounds  raised  one  foot  in  one  minute,  which  is  said 
to  be  one  horse-power. 

No  horse,  of  course,  could  raise  thirty-three  thou 
sand  pounds  a  foot  or  any  portion  of  a  foot  in  a  min 
ute  or  an  hour,  but  the  horse  can  travel  at  the  rate  of 
two  and  one-half  miles  an  hour  raising  a  weight  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  and  the  horse  can  do 
more ;  while  it  cannot  move  so  heavy  a  weight  as 
thirty-three  thousand  pounds,  it  can  in  an  emergency 
and  by  sudden  strain  move  much  more  than  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  pounds ;  with  good  foothold  it  can  pull 


140  On  an  Automobile 

more  than  its  own  weight  along1  a  road,  out  of  a  hole, 
or  up  a  hill.  It  could  not  lift  or  pull  so  great  a  weight 
very  far;  in  fact,  no  farther  than  the  equivalent  of 
approximately  thirty-three  thousand  pounds  raised  one 
foot  in  one  minute ;  but  for  the  few  seconds  necessary  a 
very  great  amount  of  energy  is  at  the  command  of  the 
driver  of  the  horse.  Hence  eight  horses,  or  even  four, 
or  two  can  do  things  on  the  road  that  an  eight  horse 
power  gasoline  machine  cannot  do;  for  the  gasoline 
machine  cannot  concentrate  all  its  power  into  the 
exertion  of  a  few  moments.  If  it  is  capable  of  lifting 
a  given  load  up  a  given  grade  at  a  certain  speed  on  its 
lowest  gear,  it  cannot  lift  twice  the  load  up  the  same 
grade,  or  the  same  load  up  a  steeper  grade  in  double 
the  time,  for  its  resources  are  exhausted  when  the 
limit  of  the  power  developed  through  the  lowest  gear 
is  reached.  The  grade  may  be  only  a  mud  hole,  out 
of  which  the  rear  wheels  have  to  rise  only  two  feet 
to  be  free,  but  it  is  as  fatal  to  progress  as  a  hill  a  mile 
long. 

Of  course  it  is  always  possible  to  race  the  engine, 
throw  in  the  clutch,  and  gain  some  power  from  the 
momentum  of  the  fly-wheel,  and  many  a  bad  place 
may  be  surmounted  step  by  step  in  this  way ;  but 
this  process  has  its  limitations  also,  and  the  fact 
remains  that  with  a  gasoline  machine  it  is  possible 
to  carry  a  given  load  only  so  fast,  but  if  the  machine 
moves  it  all,  it  will  continue  to  move  on  until  the  load 
is  increased,  or  the  road  changes  for  the  worse. 

When  the  farmer  hears  of  an  eight  horse-power 
machine  he  thinks  of  the  wonderful  things  eight  good 


The  Valley  of  Lebanon  141 

horses  can  do  on  the  road,  and  is  surprised  when  the 
machine  fails  to  go  up  hills  that  teams  travel  every 
day;  he  does  not  understand  it,  and  wonders  where 
the  power  comes  in.  He  is  not  enough  of  a  mechanic 
to  reflect  that  the  eight  horse-power  is  demonstrated 
in  the  carrying  of  a  ton  over  average  roads  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  miles  in  ten  hours,  something  eight 
horses  could  not  possibly  do. 

Just  as  we  were  entering  the  valley  of  Lebanon,   A  wheel  off 
beyond  the  village  of  Brainerd,  while  going  down  a 
slight  descent,  my  Companion  exclaimed, — 

'  The  wheel  is  coming  off."  I  threw  out  the  clutch, 
applied  the  brake,  looked,  and  saw  the  left  front  wheel 
roll  gracefully  and  quite  deliberately  out  from  under 
the  big  metal  mud  guard ;  the  carriage  settled  down 
at  that  corner,  and  the  end  of  the  axle  ploughed  a 
furrow  in  the  road  for  a  few  feet,  when  we  came  to 
a  stop. 

The  steering-head  had  broken  short  off  at  the  in 
side  of  the  hub.  We  were  not  going  very  fast  at  the 
time,  and  the  heavy  metal  mud  guard  which  caught 
the  wheel,  acting  as  a  huge  brake,  saved  us  from  a 
bad  smash. 

On  examination,  the  shank  of  the  steering-head 
was  found  to  contain  two  large  flaws,  which  reduced 
its  strength  more  than  one-half,  and  the  surprising 
thing  was  that  it  had  not  parted  long  before,  when 
subjected  to  much  severer  strains. 

This  was  a  break  that  no  man  could  repair  on  the 
road.  Under  pressure  of  circumstances  the  steering- 
head  could  have  been  taken  to  the  nearest  blacksmith 


142  On  an  Automobile 

shop  and  a  weld  made,  but  that  would  require  time, 
and  the  results  would  be  more  than  doubtful.  By  far 
the  easier  thing  to  do  was  to  wire  the  factory  for  a 
new  head  and  patiently  wait  its  coming. 

office  Happily,  we  landed  in  the  hands  of  a  retired  farmer, 
whose  generous  hospitality  embraced  our  tired  selves 
as  well  as  the  machine. 

Before  supper  a  telegram  was  sent  from  Brainerd 
to  the  factory  for  a  new  steering-head. 

While  waiting  inside  for  the  operator  to  finish  sell 
ing  tickets  for  the  one  evening  train  about  to  arrive, 
a  curious  crowd  gathered  outside  about  my  host,  and 
the  questions  asked  were  plainly  audible;  the  names 
are  fictitious. 

"  What'r  ye  down  t'  the  stashun  fur  this  hur  o'  day, 
Joe?" 

"  Broke  my  new  aut'mobile,"  carelessly  replied  my 
host,  flicking  a  fly  off  the  nigh  side  of  his  horse. 

"  Shu !" 

"What'r  given  us?" 

"  Git  out— 

"  You  ain't  got  no  aut'mobile,"  chorused  the  crowd. 

"  Mebbe  I  haven't ;  but  if  you  fellows  know  an  aut' 
mobile  from  a  hay  rake,  you  might  take  a  look  in  my 
big  barn  an'  let  me  know  what  you  see." 

"  Say,  Joe,  you're  jokin', — hev  you  really  got  one?" 

"  You  can  look  for  yourselves." 

"  I  saw  one  go  through  here  'bout  six  o'clock,"  in 
terrupted  a  new-comer.  "  Great  Jehosephat,  but  't 
went  like  a  streak  of  greased  lightnin'." 

"War  that  your'n,  Joe?" 


The  Valley  of  Lebanon  143 

"  Well " 

"  Naw,"  said  the  new-comer,  scornfully.  "  Joe  ain't 
got  no  aut'mobile;  there's  the  feller  in  there  now 
who  runs  it,"  and  the  crowd  turned  my  way  with  such 
interest  that  I  turned  to  the  little  table  and  wrote  the 
despatch,  quite  losing  the  connection  of  the  subdued 
murmurs  outside;  but  it  was  quite  evident  from  the 
broken  exclamations  that  my  host  was  rilling  the  popu 
lace  up  with  information  interesting  inversely  to  its 
accuracy. 

"  Mile  a  minute — faster'n  a  train — Holy  Moses  ! 
what's  that,  Joe?  broke  axle — telegraphed — how 
many — four  more — you  don't  say  so? — what's  his 
name?  I'll  bet  it's  Vanderbilt.  Don't  you  believe 
it — it  costs  money  to  run  one  of  those  machines.  I'll 
bet  he's  a  dandy  from  'way  back — stopping  at  your 
house — bridal  chamber — that's  right — you  want  to 
kill  the  fatted  calf  for  them  fellers — say- 
But  further  comments  were  cut  short  as  I  came  out, 
jumped  in,  and  we  drove  back  to  a  good  supper  by 
candle-light. 

The  stars  were  shining  over  head,  the  air  was  clear 
and  crisp,  down  in  the  valley  of  Lebanon  the  mist 
was  falling,  and  it  was  cool  that  night.  Lulled  by  the 
monotonous  song  of  the  tree-toad  and  the  deep  bass 
croaking  of  frogs  by  the  distant  stream,  we  fell  asleep. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  next  day.    The  new  steer-    The  shaker 
ing-head  could  not  possibly  arrive  until  the  morning 
following.    As  the  farm  was  worked  by  a  tenant,  our 
host  had  little  to  do,  and  proposed  that  we  drive  to 
the  Shaker  village  a  few  miles  beyond. 


144  ^n  an  Automobile 

The  visit  is  well  worth  making,  and  we  should  have. 
missed  it  entirely  if  the  automobile  had  not  broken 
down,  for  the  new  State  road  over  the  mountain  does 
not  go  through  the  village,  but  back  of  it.  From  the 
new  road  one  can  look  down  upon  the  cluster  of  large 
buildings  on  the  side  of  the  mountain,  but  the  old 
roads  are  so  very  steep,  with  such  interesting  names 
as  "  Devil's  Elbow,"  and  the  like,  that  they  would  not 
tempt  an  automobile.  Many  with  horses  get  out  and 
walk  at  the  worst  places. 

One  wide  street  leads  through  the  settlement  ;  on 
each  side  are  the  huge  community  buildings,  seven  in 
all,  each  occupied  by  a  "  family,"  so  called,  or  com 
munity,  and  each  quite  independent  in  its  management 
and  enterprises  from  the  others  ;  the  common  ties 
being  the  meeting-house  near  the  centre  and  the 
school-house  a  little  farther  on. 
The  North  We  stopped  at  the  North  Family  simply  because  it. 


was  the  first  at  hand,  and  we  were  hungry.  Ushered 
into  a  little  reception-room  in  one  of  the  outer  build 
ings,  we  were  obliged  to  wait  for  dinner  until  the 
party  preceding  us  had  finished,  for  the  little  dining- 
room  devoted  to  strangers  had  only  one  table,  seating 
but  six  or  eight,  and  it  seemed  to  be  the  commendable 
policy  of  the  institution  to  serve  each  party  sepa 
rately. 

A  printed  notice  warned  us  that  dinner  served  after 
one  o'clock  cost  ten  cents  per  cover  extra,  making  the 
extravagant  charge  of  sixty  cents.  We  arrived  just 
in  time  to  be  entitled  to  the  regular  rate,  but  the  dila 
tory  tactics  of  the  party  in  possession  kept  us  beyond 


The  Valley  of  Lebanon  145 

the  hour  and  involved  us  in  the  extra  expense,  with 
no  compensation  in  the  shape  of  extra  dishes.  Morally 
and — having  tendered  ourselves  within  the  limit — 
legally  we  were  entitled  to  dine  at  the  regular  rate, 
or  the  party  ahead  should  have  paid  the  additional 
tariff,  but  the  good  sister  could  not  see  the  matter  in 
that  light,  plead  ignorance  of  law,  and  relied  entirely 
upon  custom. 

The  man  who  picks  up  a  Shaker  maiden  for  a  fool 
will  let  her  drop. 

Having  waited  until  nearly  famished,  the  sister 
blandly  told  us,  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  local  interest, 
but  otherwise  of  small  consequence,  that  the  North 
Family  were  strict  vegetarians,  serving  no  meat  what 
soever  ;  the  only  meat  family  was  at  the  other  end  of 
the  village. 

We  were  ready  for  meat,  for  chickens,  ducks,  green 
goose,  anything  that  walked  on  legs ;  we  were  not 
ready  for  pumpkin,  squash,  boiled  potatoes,  canned 
peas,  and  cabbage ;  but  a  theory  as  well  as  a  condition 
confronted  us;  it  was  give  in  or  move  on.  We  gave 
in,  but  for  fifteen  cents  more  per  plate  bargained  for 
preserves,  maple  syrup,  and  honey, — for  something 
cloying  to  deceive  the  outraged  palate. 

But  that  dinner  was  a  revelation  of  what  a  good 
cook  can  do  with  vegetables  in  season ;  it  was  the 
quintessence  of  delicacy,  the  refinement  of  finesse,  the 
veritable  apotheosis  of  the  kitchen  garden ;  meat 
would  have  been  brutal,  the  intrusion  of  a  chop  in 
excusable,  the  assertion  of  a  steak  barbarous,  even  a 
terrapin  would  have  felt  quite  out  of  place  amidst 


146  On  an  Automobile 

things  so  fragrant  and  impalpable  as  the  marvellous 
preparations  of  vegetables  from  that  wonderful  Shaker 
kitchen. 

Everything  was  good,  but  the  various  concoctions 
of  sweet  corn  were  better ;  and  such  sweet  corn !  it 
is  still  a  savory  recollection. 

Then  the  variety  of  preserves,  jellies,  and  syrups ; 
fifteen  cents  extra  were  never  bestowed  to  better  ad 
vantage.  We  cast  our  coppers  upon  the  water  and 
they  returned  Spanish  galleons  laden  with  good 
things  to  eat. 

A  temperance  After  dining,  we  were  walked  through  the  vari 
ous  buildings,  up  stairs  and  down,  through  kitchens, 
pantries,  and  cellars, — a  wise  exercise  after  so  boun 
tiful  a  repast.  In  the  cellar  we  drank  something  from 
a  bottle  labelled  "  Pure  grape  juice,"  one  of  those  non 
alcoholic  beverages  with  which  the  teetotaler  whips 
the  devil  around  the  stump ;  another  glass  would  have 
made  Shakers  of  us  all,  for  the  juice  of  the  grape  in 
this  instance  was  about  twenty-five  per  cent,  proof. 
If  the  good  sisters  supply  their  worthy  brothers  in 
faith  with  this  stimulating  cordial,  it  is  not  unlikely 
that  life  in  the  village  is  less  monotonous  than  is  com 
monly  supposed.  It  certainly  was  calculated  to  add 
emphasis  to  the  eccentricities  of  even  a  "  Shaking 
Quaker." 

The  shakers  Although  the  oldest  and  the  wealthiest  of  all  the 
socialistic  communities,  there  are  only  about  six  thou 
sand  Shakers  in  the  United  States,  less  than  one- 
fourth  of  what  there  were  in  former  times. 

At  Mt.   Lebanon,  the  first   founded  of  the  several 


The  Valley   of  Lebanon  147 

societies  in  this  country,  there  are  seven  families,  or 
separate  communities,  each  with  its  own  home  and 
buildings.  The  present  membership  is  about  one 
hundred  and  twenty,  nearly  all  women, — scarcely 
enough  men  to  provide  the  requisite  deacons  for 
each  family. 

Large  and  well-managed  schools  are  provided  to 
attract  children  from  the  outside  world,  and  so  re 
cruit  the  diminishing  ranks  of  the  faithful ;  but  while 
many  girls  remain,  the  boys  steal  away  to  the  heathen 
world,  where  marriage  is  an  institution. 

Celibacy  is  the  cardinal  principle  and  the  curse  of  Celibacy 
Shakerism ;  it  is  slowly  but  surely  bringing  the  sect 
to  an  end.  It  takes  a  lot  of  fanaticism  to  remain  single, 
and  fanaticism  is  in  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf.  In 
Massachusetts,  where  so  many  women  are  compelled 
to  remain  single,  there  ought  to  be  many  Shakers ; 
there  are  a  few,  and  Mt.  Lebanon  is  just  over  the  line. 

Celibacy  does  not  appeal  strongly  to  men.  A  man 
is  quite  willing  to  live  alone  if  it  is  not  compulsory, 
but  celibates  cannot  stand  restraint;  the  bachelor  is 
bound  to  have  his  own  way — until  he  is  married.  Tell 
a  man  he  may  not  marry,  and  he  will ;  that  he  must 
marry,  and  he  won't. 

The  sect  which  tries  to  get  along  with  either  too 
little  or  too  much  marriage  is  bound  to  peter  out. 
There  were  John  Noyes  and  Brigham  Young.  John 
founded  the  Oneida  Community  upon  the  proposition 
that  everything  should  be  in  common,  including  hus 
bands,  wives,  and  children ;  from  the  broadest  pos 
sible  communism  his  community  has  regenerated  into 


148  On  an  Automobile 

the  closet  of  stock  companies  "  limited,"  with  a  capital 
stock  of  seven  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars,  a 
surplus  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  and  only 
two  hundred  and  nineteen  stockholders. 

In  the  palmy  days  of  Mormonism  the  men  could 
have  as  many  wives  as  they  could  afford,  —  a  scheme 
not  without  its  practical  advantages  in  the  monotonous 
life  of  pioneer  settlements,  since  it  gave  the  women 
something  to  quarrel  about  and  the  men  something  to 
think  about,  thereby  keeping  both  out  of  mischief,  — 
but  with  the  advent  of  civilization  with  its  diverse  in 
terests,  the  men  of  Salt  Lake,  urged  also  by  the  law, 
are  getting  tired  of  more  than  one  wife  at  a  time,  and 
the  community  will  soon  be  absorbed  and  lost  in  the 
commonplace.  The  ancient  theory  of  wives  in  mul 
tiples  is  giving  place  to  the  modern  practice  of  wives 
in  series. 


A  backslider  -piie  story  is  told  that  a  dear  Shaker  brother  once 

fell  from  grace  and  disappeared  in  the  maelstrom  of 
the  carnal  world  ;  in  a  few  years  he  came  back  as 
penitent  as  he  was  penniless,  with  strange  accounts  of 
how  men  had  fleeced  him  of  all  he  possessed  save  the 
clothes  —  none  too  desirable  —  on  his  back.  Men  were 
so  scarce  that  the  credulous  sisters  and  charitable 
deacons  voted  to  accept  his  tales  as  true  and  receive 
him  once  more  into  the  fold. 

Ann  Lee  j^  was   jn    1770,  while  in  prison   in   England,   thai 

Ann  Lee  claimed  to  have  had  a  great  revelation  con 
cerning  original  sin,  wherein  it  was  revealed  that  a 
celibate  life  is  a  condition  precedent  to  spiritual  re- 


The  Valley  of  Lebanon  149 

generation.  Her  revelation  may  have  been  biased  by 
the  fact  that  she  herself  was  married,  but  not  com 
fortably. 

In  1773,  on  her  release  from  prison,  another  reve 
lation  told  her  to  go  to  America.  Her  husband  did 
not  sympathize  with  the  celibacy  proposition,  left 
"  Mother  Ann,"  as  she  was  then  known,  and  went 
off  with  another  woman  who  was  unhampered  by 
revelations.  This  was  the  beginning  of  desertions 
which  have  continued  ever  since,  until  the  men  are 
reduced  to  a  corporal's  guard. 

The  principles  of  the  Shakers,  barring  celibacy,  are  what  they 
sound  and  practical,  and,  so  far  as  known,  they  live 
up  to  them  quite  faithfully.  Like  the  original  Oneida 
community,  they  believe  in  free  criticism  of  one  an 
other  in  open  meetings.  They  admit  no  one  to  the 
society  unless  he  or  she  promises  to  make  a  full  con 
fession  before  others  of  every  evil  that  can  be  recalled, 
— women  confess  to  women,  men  to  men ;  these  re 
quirements  make  it  difficult  to  recruit  their  ranks. 
They  are  opposed  to  war  and  violence,  do  not  vote, 
and  do  not  permit  corporal  punishment.  They  pay 
their  full  share  of  public  taxes  and  assessments  and 
give  largely  in  charity.  Their  buildings  are  well  built 
and  well  kept,  their  farms  and  lands  worked  to  the 
best  advantage;  in  short,  they  are  industrious  and 
thrifty. 

Communism  is  one  of  those  dreams  that  come  so    Communism 
often  to  the  best  of  mankind  and,  lingering  on  through 
the  waking  hours,  influence  conduct.     The  sharp  dis- 


150  On  an  Automobile 

tinctions  and  inequalities  of  life  seem  so  harsh  and 
unjust;  the  wide  intervals  which  separate  those  who 
have  from  those  who  have  not  seem  so  unfair,  that 
in  all  ages  and  in  all  countries  men  have  tried  to  de 
vise  schemes  for  social  equality, — equality  of  power, 
opportunity,  and  achievement.  Communism  of  some 
sort  is  one  solution  urged, — communism  in  property, 
communism  in  effort,  communism  in  results,  every 
thing  in  common. 

In  1840  Emerson  wrote  to  Carlyle,  "  We  are  all  a 
little  wild  here  with  numberless  projects  of  social  re 
form.  Not  a  reading  man  but  has  a  draft  of  a  new 
community  in  his  waistcoat  pocket.  I  am  gently  mad 
myself,  and  am  resolved  to  live  cleanly.  George  Rip- 
ley  is  talking  up  a  colony  of  agriculturists  and  scholars, 
with  whom  he  threatens  to  take  the  field  and  book. 
One  man  renounces  the  use  of  animal  food ;  another 
of  coin ;  and  another  of  domestic  hired  service ;  and 
another  of  the  State;  and  on  the  whole  we  have  a 
commendable  share  of  reason  and  of  hope." 

Ripley  did  found  his  Brook  Farm,  and  a  lot  of  good 
people  went  and  lived  there — not  Emerson ;  he  was 
just  a  trifle  too  sane  to  be  won  over  completely,  but 
even  he  used  to  go  into  his  own  garden  and  dig  in  a 
socialistic  way  until  his  little  boy  warned  him  not  to 
dig  his  foot. 


Absolutism  of         That  is  the  trouble  with  communism,  those  who  dig 

communism        are  apt  to  fag  their  feet.     It  is  easier  to  call  a  spade 

a  spade  than  to  use  one.     Men  may  be  born  free  and 

equal,  but  if  they  are,  they  do  not  show  it.     From  his 

first  breath  man  is  oppressed  by  the  conditions  of  his 


The  Valley  of  Lebanon  i  5 1 

existence,  and  life  is  a  struggle  with  environment. 
Freedom  and  liberty  are  terms  of  relative  not  absolute 
value.  The  absolutism  of  the  commune  is  oppression 
refined,  each  man  must  dig  even  if  he  digs  his  own 
foot.  The  plea  of  the  anarchist  for  liberty  is  more 
consistent  than  the  plea  of  the  communist, — the  one 
does  demand  a  wild,  lawless  freedom  for  individual 
initiative ;  the  other  demands  the  very  refinement  of 
interference  with  liberty  of  mind  and  body. 

The  evolutionist  looks  on  with  philosophic  indiffer 
ence,  knowing  that  what  is  to  be  will  be,  that  the 
stream  of  tendency  is  not  to  be  checked  or  swerved 
by  vaporings,  but  moves  irresistibly  onward,  though 
every  thought,  every  utterance,  every  experiment,  how 
ever  wild,  however  visionary,  has  its  effect. 

We  of  the  practical  world  sojourning  in  the  Shaker  weofthe 
village  may  commiserate  the  disciples  of  theory,  but  outerworld 
they  are  happy  in  their  own  way, — possibly  happier 
in  their  seclusion  and  routine  than  we  are  in  our  hurly- 
burly  and  endless  strife  for  social,  commercial,  and 
political  advantages.  Life  is  as  settled  and  certain  for 
them  as  it  is  unsettled  and  uncertain  for  us.  No  prob 
lems  confront  them ;  the  everlasting  query,  "  What 
shall  we  do  to-morrow  ?"  is  never  asked ;  plans  for 
the  coming  summer  do  not  disturb  them ;  the  seashore 
is  far  off;  Paris  and  Monte  Carlo  are  but  places, 
vague  and  indistinct,  the  fairy  tales  of  travellers ;  their 
city  is  the  four  walls  of  their  home;  their  world  the 
one  long,  silent,  street  of  the  village ;  their  end  the 
little  graveyard  beyond;  it  is  all  planned  out,  fore 
seen,  and  arranged. 


152  On  an  Automobile 

communal  Hfe  Such  a  life  is  not  without  its  charms,  and  it  is  small 
wonder  that  in  all  ages  men  of  intellect  have  sought 
in  some  form  of  communistic  association  relief  from 
the  pressure  of  strenuous  individualism.  We  may 
smile  with  condescension  upon  the  busy  sisters  in  their 
caps  and  gingham  gowns,  but,  who  knows,  theirs  may 
he  the  better  lot. 

Life  with  us  is  a  good  deal  of  an  automobile  race,  — 
a  lot  of  dust,  dirt,  and  noise;  explosions,  accidents, 
and  delays  ;  something  wrong  most  of  the  time  ;  now 
a  burst  of  headlong  speed,  then  a  jolt  and  sudden 
stop  ;  or  a  creeping  pace  with  disordered  mechanism  ; 
no  time  to  think  of  much  except  the  machine  ;  less 
time  to  see  anything  except  the  road  immediately 
ahead  ;  strife  to  pass  others  ;  reckless  indifference  to 
life  and  limb;  one  long,  mad  contest  for  success  and 
notoriety,  ending  for  the  most  part  in  some  sort  of 
disaster,  —  possibly  a  sea  of  flame. 

If  we  possessed  any  sense  of  grim,  sardonic  humor, 
we  would  appreciate  how  ridiculous  is  the  life  we  lead, 
how  utterly  absurd  is  our  waste  of  time,  our  dissipa 
tion  of  the  few  days  and  hours  vouchsafed  us.  We 
are  just  so  many  cicadas  drumming  out  the  hours  and 
disappearing.  We  have  abundance  of  wit,  and  a  good 
deal  of  humor  of  a  superficial  kind,  but  the  penetrating 
vision  of  a  Socrates,  a  Voltaire,  a  Carlyle  is  denied  the 
most  of  us,  and  we  take  ourselves  and  our  accustomed 
pursuits  most  seriously. 


riidin's  0n  Olir  wav  1^^  from  the  village  we  stopped  at 

the   birthplace   of   Samuel   Tilden,  —  an   old-fashioned 
white  frame  house,  situated  in  the  very  fork  of  the 


The  Valley   of  Lebanon  i  5  3 

roads,  and  surrounded  by  tall  trees.  Not  far  away  is 
the  cemetery,  where  a  stone  sarcophagus  contains  the 
remains  of  a  man  who  was  very  able  if  not  very  great. 

Probably  not  fifty  people  in  the  United  States,  aside 
from  those  living  in  the  neighborhood,  know  where 
Tilden  was  born.  We  did  not  until  we  came  abruptly 
upon  the  house  and  were  told ;  probably  not  a  dozen 
could  tell  exactly  where  he  is  buried.  Such  is  fame. 
And  yet  this  man,  in  the  belief  of  most  of  his  country 
men,  was  chosen  president,  though  never  seated ;  he 
was  governor  of  New  York  and  a  vital  force  in  the 
politics  and  public  life  of  his  times, — now  forgotten. 

What  a  disappointment  it  must  have  been  to  come 
so  near  and  yet  miss  the  presidency.  Before  1880  came 
around,  his  own  party  had  so  far  forgotten  him  that  he 
was  scarcely  mentioned  for  renomination, — though 
Tilden  decrepit  was  incomparably  stronger  than  Han 
cock  "  the  superb.''  It  was  hard  work  enthusing  over 
"  Hancock  and  Hooray"  after  "  Tilden  and  Reform  ;" 
the  latter  cry  had  substance,  the  former  was  just  fustian. 

The  Democratic  party  is  as  iconoclastic  as  the  Re-  The  two  parties 
publican  is  reverential.  The  former  loves  to  pick  flaws 
in  its  idols  and  dash  them  to  pieces ;  the  latter,  with 
stolid  conservatism,  clings  loyally  to  its  mediocrities. 
The  latter  could  have  elected  Bryan,  the  former  could 
not;  the  Democratic  stomach  is  freaky  and  very 
squeamish ;  it  swallows  many  things  but  digests  few ; 
the  ostrich-like  Republican  organ  has  never  been 
known  to  reject  anything. 

Republicans  swear  stanchly  by  every  president  they 
have  ever  elected.  Democrats  abandoned  Tilden  and 


i  54  On  an  Automobile 

spurned  Cleveland,  the  only  two  men  they  have  come 
within  a  thousand  miles  of  electing  in  ten  campaigns. 
The  lesson  of  well-nigh  half  a  century  makes  no  im 
pression,  the  blind  are  leading  the  blind. 

It  is  a  far  cry  from  former  leaders  such  as  Tilden, 
Hewitt,  Bayard,  and  Cleveland  to  those  of  to-day ;  a 
party  which  seeks  its  candidate  among  the  populists 
of  Nebraska  courts  defeat.  The  two  nominations  of 
Bryan  mark  low  level  in  the  political  tide ;  it  is  not 
conceivable  that  a  great  political  party  could  sink 
lower ;  for  less  of  a  statesman  and  more  of  a  dema 
gogue  does  not  exist.  The  one  great  opportunity  the 
little  man  had  to  show  some  ability  as  a  leader  was 
when  the  treaty  of  Paris  was  being  fiercely  debated 
at  Washington ;  the  sentiment  of  his  party  and  the 
best  men  of  the  country  were  against  the  purchase  of 
the  Philippines ;  but  this  cross-roads  politician,  who 
could  not  see  beyond  the  tip  of  his  nose,  hastened  to 
Washington,  played  into  the  hands  of  the  jingoes  by 
persuading  the  wiser  men  of  his  own  party — men  who 
should  not  have  listened  to  him — to  withdraw  their 
opposition. 

Bryan  had  two  opportunities  to  exhibit  qualities  of 
statesmanship  in  the  beginning  of  the  war  with  Spain, 
and  in  the  discussion  of  the  treaty  of  Paris ;  he  missed 
both.  So  far  as  the  war  was  concerned,  he  never  had 
an  idea  beyond  a  little  cheap  renown  as  a  paper  colonel 
of  volunteers;  so  far  as  the  treaty  was  concerned,  he 
made  the  unpardonable  blunder  of  playing1  into  the 
hands  of  his  opponents,  and  leaving  the  sound  and 
conservative  sentiment  of  the  country  without  ade 
quate  leadership  in  Washington. 


The  Valley  of  Lebanon  155 

While    we    were    curiously    looking   at   the    Tilden   Peripatetic 
homestead,   an  old   man   came   walking  slowly   down  phl  osophy 
the   road,   a   rake  over   his   shoulder,   one  leg   of  his 
patched  trousers  stuck  in  a  boot-top,  a  suspender  miss 
ing,  his  old  straw  hat  minus  a  goodly  portion  of  its 
crown.     He  stopped,  leaned  upon  his  rake,  and  looked 
at  us  inquisitively,  then  remarked  in  drawling  tone, — 

"  I  know'd  Sam  Tilden." 

"Indeed!" 

"  Yes,  I  know'd  him ;   he  was  a  great  man." 

"You  are  a  Democrat?" 

"  I  wuz,  but  ain't  now,"  pensively. 

"  Why  ar'n't  you?" 

'*  Well,  you  see,  I  wuz  allus  a  rock-ribbed  Jack 
son  ian  fr'm  a  boy ;  seed  the  ole  gen 'nil  onc't,  an'  I 
voted  for  Douglas  an'  Seymore.  I  skipped  Greeley, 
fur  he  warn't  no  Dem'crat ;  an'  I  voted  fur  Tilden 
an'  Hancock  an'  Cleveland ;  but  when  it  come  to  votin' 
fur  a  cyclone  fr'm  N'braska, — jest  wind  an'  nothin' 
more, — I  kicked  over  the  traces." 

;  Then  you  don't  believe  in  the  divine  ratio  of  six 
teen  to  one?" 

''  Young  man,  silver  an'  gold  come  out'r  the  ground, 
jes'  lik'  corn  an'  wheat.  When  you  kin  make  two 
bush'ls  corn  wu'th  a  bush'l  wheat  by  law  an'  keep 
'em  there,  you  can  fix  the  rasho  'twixt  silver  an'  gold, 
an'  not  before,"  and  the  old  man  shouldered  his  rake 
and  wandered  on  up  the  road. 

Before  leaving  the  birthplace  of  Tilden,  it  is  worth    Tammany 
noting  that  for  forty  years  every  candidate  favored  by 
Tammany  has  been  ignominiously  defeated;    the  two 


156  On  an  Automobile 

candidates  bitterly  opposed  by  the  New  York  ma 
chine  were  successful.  It  is  to  the  credit  of  the  party 
that  no  Democrat  can  be  elected  president  unless  he 
is  the  avowed  and  unrelenting  foe  of  corruption 
within  and  without  the  ranks. 

A  tipsy  turkey  The  farmer  with  whom  we  were  staying  had  earlier 
in  the  summer  a  flock  of  sixty  young  and  promising 
turkeys ;  of  the  lot  but  twenty  were  left,  and  one  of 
them  was  moping  about  as  his  forty  brothers  and 
sisters  had  moped  before,  ready  to  die. 

*'  Ah,  he'll  go  with  the  others,"  said  the  farmer. 
*'  Raising  turkeys  is  a  ticklish  job ;  to-day  they're 
scratching  gravel  for  all  they're  worth ;  tomorrow 
they  mope  around  an'  die ;  no  telling  what's  the 
matter." 

"  Suppose  we  give  that  turkey  some  whiskey  and 
water ;  it  may  help  him." 

"  Can't  do  him  any  harm,  fur  he'll  die  anyway ;  but 
it's  a  waste  of  good  medicine." 

Soaking  some  bread  in  good,  strong  Scotch,  di 
luted  with  very  little  water,  we  gave  the  turkey  what 
was  equivalent  to  a  teaspoonful.  The  bird  did  not 
take  unkindly  to  the  mixture.  It  had  been  standing 
about  all  day  first  on  one  leg,  then  on  another,  with 
eyes  half  closed  and  head  turned  feebly  to  one  side. 
In  a  few  moments  the  effect  of  the  whiskey  became 
apparent;  the  half-grown  bird  could  no  longer  stand 
on  one  leg,  but  used  both,  placing  them  well  apart 
for  support.  It  began  to  show  signs  of  animation, 
peering  about  with  first  one  eye  and  then  the  other; 
with  great  gravity  and  deliberation  it  made  its  way 


The  Valley  of  Lebanon  157 

to  the  centre  of  the  road  and  looked  about  for  gravel ; 
fixing  its  eye  upon  an  attractive  little  pebble  it  aimed 
for  it,  missed  it  by  about  two  inches  and  rolled  in  the 
dust ;  by  this  time  the  other  turkeys  were  staring  in 
amazement ;  slowly  pulling  itself  together  he  shook 
the  dust  from  his  feathers,  cast  a  scornful  eye  upon 
the  crowd  about  him  and  looked  again  for  the  pebble : 
there  it  was  within  easy  shot ;  taking  good  aim  with 
one  eye  closed  he  made  another  lunge,  ploughed  his 
head  into  the  dust,  making  a  complete  somersault. 
By  this  time  the  two  old  turkeys  were  attracted  by  the 
unusual  excitement ;  making  their  way  through  the 
throng  of  youngsters,  they  gazed  for  a  moment  upon 
the  downfall  of  one  of  their  progeny,  and  then  giving 
vent  to  their  indignation  in  loud  cries  pounced  upon 
their  tipsy  offspring  and  pecked  him  until  he  struggled 
upright  and  staggered  away.  The  last  we  saw  of  the 
young  scapegrace  he  was  smoothing  his  ruffled  plum 
age  before  a  shining  milk-pail  and  apparently  admon 
ishing  his  unsteady  double.  It  is  worth  recording  that 
the  turkey  was  better  the  next  day,  and  lived,  as  we 
were  afterwards  told,  to  a  ripe  old  Thanksgiving  age. 

The  new  steering-head  came  early  the  next  morn- 
ing;  in  thirty  minutes  it  was  in  place.  Our  host  and  ' 
hostess  were  then  given  their  first  automobile  ride ; 
she,  womanlike,  took  the  speed,  sudden  turns,  and 
strange  sensations  more  coolly  than  he.  As  a  rule, 
women  and  children  are  more  fearless  than  men  in 
an  automobile ;  this  is  not  because  they  have  more 
courage,  but  men  realize  more  vividly  the  things  that 
might  happen,  whereas  women  and  children  simply 


158  On  an  Automobile 

feel  the  exhilaration  of  the  speed  without  thinking  of 
possible  disasters. 

We  went  down  the  road  at  a  thirty-mile  clip,  made 
a  quick  turn  at  the  four  corners,  and  were  back  almost 
before  the  dust  we  raised  had  settled. 

'  That's  something  like,"  said  our  host ;  "  but  the 
old  horse  is  a  good  enough  automobile  for  me." 

The  hold-all  was  soon  strapped  in  place,  and  at 
half -past  nine  we  were  off  for  Pittsfield. 

Passing  the  Tilden  homestead,  we  soon  began  the 
ascent  of  the  mountain,  following  the  superb  new 
State  road. 

over  the  The  old  road  was  through  the  Shaker  village  and 

contained  grades  which  rendered  it  impossible  for 
teams  to  draw  any  but  the  lightest  loads.  It  was 
only  when  market  conditions  were  very  abnormal  that 
the  farmers  in  the  valley  would  draw  their  hay,  grain, 
and  produce  to  Pittsfield. 

The  new  State  road  winds  around  and  over  the 
mountain  at  a  grade  nowhere  exceeding  five  per  cent. 
and  averaging  a  little  over  four.  It  is  a  broad  mac 
adam,  perfectly  constructed. 

In  going  up  this  easy  and  perfectly  smooth  ascent 
for  some  six  or  seven  miles,  the  disadvantage  of  hav 
ing  no  intermediate-speed  gears  was  forcibly  illus 
trated,  for  the  grade  was  just  too  stiff  for  the  high 
speed  gear,  and  yet  so  easy  that  the  engine  tended  to 
race  on  the  low,  but  we  had  to  make  the  entire  ascent 
on  the  hill-climbing  gear  at  a  rate  of  about  four  or 
five  miles  an  hour ;  an  intermediate-gear  would  have 
carried  us  up  at  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  per  hour. 


THE   CQUF7T    CONSIDERS  THE  MATTER 


CHAPTER   TWELVE 

AN    INCIDENT    OF   TRAVEL 


IN  Pittsfield  the  machine  frightened  a  lawyer, — not 
a  woman,  or  a  child,  or  a  horse,  or  a  donkey, — but  just 
a  lawyer ;  to  be  sure,  there  was  nothing  to  indicate  he 
was  a  lawyer,  and  still  less  that  he  was  unusually 
timid  of  his  kind,  therefore  no  blame  could  attach  for 
failing  to  distinguish  him  from  men  less  nervous. 

That  he  was  frightened,  no  one  who  saw  him  run 
could  deny ;  that  he  was  needlessly  frightened,  seemed 
equally  plain ;  that  he  was  chagrined  when  bystanders 
laughed  at  his  exhibition,  was  highly  probable. 

Now  law  is  the  business  of  a  lawyer ;  it  is  his  refuge 


i6o 


On  an  Automobile 


Si.vty  cents 


A  fishing 
tpisude 


in  trouble  and  at  the  same  time  his  source  of  revenue ; 
and  it  is  a  poor  lawyer  who  cannot  make  his  refuge 
pay  a  little  something  every  time  it  affords  him  con 
solation  for  real  or  fancied  injury. 

In  this  case  the  lawyer  collected  exactly  sixty  cents' 
worth  of  consolation, — two  quarters  and  a  dime,  the 
price  of  two  lunches  and  a  cup  of  coffee,  or  a  dozen 
"  Pittsfield  Stogies/'  if  there  be  so  fragrant  a  brand  ; 
— the  lay  mind  cannot  grasp  the  possibilities  of  two 
quarters  and  a  ten-cent  piece  in  the  strong  and  re 
sourceful  grasp  of  a  Pittsfield  lawyer.  In  these 
thrifty  New  England  towns  one  always  gets  a  great 
many  pennies  in  change ;  small  money  is  the  current 
coin ;  great  stress  is  set  upon  a  well-worn  quarter,  and 
a  dime  is  precious  in  the  sight  of  the  native. 

It  so  happened  that  just  about  the  time  of  our  ar 
rival,  the  machinery  of  justice  in  and  about  Pittsfield 
was  running  a  little  wild  anyway. 

In  an  adjoining  township,  on  the  same  day,  ex- 
President  Cleveland,  who  was  whiling  away  time  in 
the  philosophic  pursuit  of  fishing,  was  charged  with 
catching  and  retaining  longer  than  the  law  allowed  a 
bass  which  was  a  quarter  of  an  inch  under  the  legal 
limit  of  eight  inches.  Now  in  the  excitement  of  the 
moment  that  bass  no  doubt  felt  like  a  whale  to  the 
great  man,  and  as  it  neared  the  surface,  after  the 
manner  of  its  kind,  it  of  course  looked  as  long  as  a 
pickerel ;  then,  too,  the  measly  fish  was  probably  a 
silver  bass,  and  once  in  the  boat  shrunk  a  quarter  of 
an  inch,  just  to  get  the  eminent  gold  Democrat  in 
trouble.  At  all  events,  the  friend  who  was  along  gal- 


An   Incident  of  Travel  161 

lantly  claimed  the  bass  as  his,  appeared  in  the  Great 
Harrington  district  court,  and  paid  a  fine  of  two 
dollars. 

Now  these  things  are  characteristic  of  the  place, 
daubs  of  local  coloring;  the  summer  resident  upon 
whom  the  provincials  thrive  is  not  disturbed ;  but  the 
stranger  who  is  within  the  gates,  who  is  just  passing 
through,  from  whom  no  money  in  the  way  of  small 
purchases  and  custom  is  to  be  expected,  he  is  legiti 
mate  plunder,  even  though  he  be  so  distinguished  a 
stranger  as  an  ex-President  of  the  United  States. 

A  local  paper  related  the  fishing  episode  as  follows  :  A  very  smaii 

bass 

"  Ex-President  Grover  Cleveland,  who  is  spending  the 
summer  in  Tyringham,  narrowly  escaped  being  arrested  at 
Lake  Garfield,  in  Monterey,  Thursday  afternoon.  As  it  was,  . 
he  received  a  verbal  summons  to  appear  in  the  Great  Bar- 
rington  district  court  this  morning  and  answer  the  charge  of 
illegal  fishing.  But  when  the  complainants  learned  who  the 
distinguished  person  was  with  whom  they  were  dealing,  they 
let  drop  the  matter  of  swearing  out  a  warrant,  and  in  Mr. 
Cleveland's  place  appeared  Cassius  C.  Scranton,  of  Monterey. 

"  He  pleaded  guilty  to  catching  a  bass  less  than  eight  inches 
in  length,  which  is  the  minimum  allowed  by  law,  and  was 
fined  two  dollars  by  Judge  Sanford,  but  as  Mr.  Cleveland 
said  that  he  caught  the  fish,  there  is  still  a  good  deal  of  doubt 
among  the  residents  of  southern  Berkshire  as  to  which  one 
was  actually  guilty.  However,  if  the  hero  of  the  Hawaiian 
enterprise  was  the  unlucky  angler  who  caught  the  bass,  he 
was  relieved  of  the  unpleasant  notoriety  of  being  summoned 
into  court  on  a  warrant  by  the  very  charitable  act  of  Mr. 
Scranton,  of  Monterey,  who  will  forever  go  down  in  the  his 
tory  of  that  town  as  the  stalwart  defender  of  the  ex-presi 
dent.'' 

ii 


162  On  an  Automobile 

It  is  not  conceivable  that  such  a  ridiculous  display 
of  impecunious  justice  would  be  made  elsewhere  in  the 
country.  In  the  South  the  judge  would  dismiss  the 
complainant  or  pay  the  fine  himself;  in  the  West  he 
would  be  mobbed  if  he  did  not.  New  York  would 
find  a  tactful  and  courteous  way  of  avoiding  the  sem 
blance  of  an  arrest  or  the  imposition  of  a  fine ;  but  in 
thrifty  Massachusetts,  and  in  thrice  thrifty  Great 
Barrington,  and  in  twice  thrice  thrifty  Pittsfield, 
pennies  count,  are  counted,  and  most  conscientiously 
received  and  receipted  for  by  those  who  set  the  wheels 
of  justice  in  motion. 

The  timid  North  Street  is  broad  and  West  Street  is  broad,  and 

there  is  abundance  of  room  for  man  and  beast. 

At  the  hour  in  question  there  were  no  women,  chil 
dren,  or  horses  in  the  street ;  the  crossings  were  clear 
save  for  a  young  man  with  a  straw  hat,  whose  gen 
eral  appearance  betrayed  no  sign  of  undue  timidity. 
He  was  on  the  far  crossing,  sixty  or  seventy  feet  dis 
tant.  When  the  horn  was  sounded  for  the  turn  down 
into  West  Street,  he  turned,  gave  one  look  at  the 
machine,  jumped,  and  ran.  In  a  few  moments  the 
young  man  with  the  straw  hat  came  to  the  place  where 
the  machine  had  stopped.  He  was  followed  by  a 
short,  stubby  little  friend  with  a  sandy  beard,  who, 
while  apparently  acting  as  second,  threatened  each  mo 
ment  to  take  the  matter  into  his  own  hands  and  usurp 
the  place  of  principal. 

Straw  Hat  was  placable  and  quite  disposed  to  accept 
an  expression  of  regret  that  fright  had  been  occa 
sioned. 


An   Incident  of  Travel  163 

Sandy  Beard  would  not  have  it  so,  and  urged  Straw 
Hat  to  make  a  complaint. 

Straw  Hat  spurred  on  his  flagging  indignation  and 
asked  for  a  card. 

Sandy  Beard  told  Straw  Hat  not  to  be  deterred  by 
soft  words  and  civility,  and  promised  to  stand  by  him, 
or  rather  back  of  him ;  whereupon  something  like  the 
following  might  have  occurred. 

Sandy  Beard. — Then  you  know  what  is  to  be  done? 

Straw  Hat. — Not  I,  upon  my  soul ! 

Sandy  Beard. — We  wear  no  clubs  here,  but  you 
understand  me. 

Straw  Hat. — What !   arrest  him. 

Sandy  Beard. — Why  to  be  sure ;  what  can  I  mean 
else? 

Straw  Plat. — But  he  has  given  me  no  provocation. 

Sandy  Beard. — Now,  I  think  he  has  given  you  the 
greatest  provocation  in  the  world.  Can  a  man  com 
mit  a  more  heinous  offence  against  another  than  to 
frighten  him?  Ah!  by  my  soul,  it  is  a  most  unpar 
donable  breach  of  something. 

Straw  Hat. — Breach  of  something!  Ay,  ay;  but 
is't  a  breach  of  the  peace?  I  have  no  acquaintance 
with  this  man.  I  never  saw  him  before  in  my  life. 

Sandy  Beard. — That's  no  argument  at  all ;  he  has 
the  less  right  to  take  such  a  liberty. 

Straw  Hat. — Gad,  that's  true.  I  grow  full  of  anger, 
Sir  Sandy !  fire  ahead !  Odds,  writs  and  warrants ! 
I  find  a  man  may  have  a  good  deal  of  valor  in  him, 
and  not  know  it!  But  couldn't  I  contrive  to  have  a 
little  right  on  my  side? 


164 


On  an  Automobile 


Odds,  writs 
and  warrants 


We  got  up  the. 
complaint 


Sandy  Beard. — What  the  devil  signifies  right  when 
your  courage  is  concerned.  Do  you  think  Verges,  or 
my  little  Dogberry  ever  inquired  where  the  right  lay? 
No,  by  my  soul ;  they  drew  their  writs,  and  left  the 
lazy  justice  of  the  peace  to  settle  the  right  of  it. 

Straw  Hat. — Your  words  are  a  grenadier's  march 
to  my  heart !  I  believe  courage  must  be  catching !  I 
certainly  do  feel  a  kind  of  valor  rising  as  it  were, — a 
kind  of  courage,  as  I  may  say.  Odds,  writs  and  war 
rants  !  I'll  complain  directly. 

(With  apologies  to  Sheridan.) 

And  the  pair  went  off  to  make  their  complaint. 

Suppose  each  had  been  given  then  and  there  the 
sixty  cents  he  afterwards  received  and  duly  receipted 
for,  would  it  have  saved  time  and  trouble?  Who 
knows  ?  but  the  diversion  of  the  afternoon  would  have 
been  lost. 

In  a  few  moments  an  officer  quite  courteously — re 
freshing  contrast — notified  me  that  complaint  was  in 
process  of  making. 

I  found  the  chief  of  police  with  a  copy  of  the  city 
ordinance  trying  to  draw  some  sort  of  a  complaint 
that  would  fit  the  extraordinary  case,  for  the  charge 
was  not  the  usual  one,  that  the  machine  was  going  at 
an  unlawful  speed,  but  that  a  lawyer  had  been  fright 
ened  ;  to  find  the  punishment  that  would  fit  that  crime 
was  no  easy  task. 

The  ordinance  is  liberal, — ten  miles  an  hour;  and 
the  young  man  and  his  mentor  had  not  said  the  speed 
of  the  automobile  was  greater  than  the  law  allowed, 


An   Incident  of  Travel  165 

hence  the  dilemma  of  the  chief;  but  we  discussed  a 
clause  which  provided  that  vehicles  should  not  be 
driven  through  the  streets  in  a  manner  so  as  to  en 
danger  public  travel,  and  he  thought  the  complaint 
would  rest  on  that  provision. 

However  lacking  the  bar  of  Pittsfield  may  be  in  the 
amenities  of  life,  the  bench  is  courtesy  itself.  There 
was  no  court  until  next  day;  but  calling  at  the  judge's 
very  delightful  home,  which  happens  to  be  on  one  of 
the  interesting  old  streets  of  the  town,  he  said  he 
would  come  down  and  hear  the  matter  at  two  o'clock, 
so  I  could  get  away  that  afternoon. 

The  first  and  wisest  impulse  of  the  automobilist  is 
to  pay  whatever  fine  is  imposed  and  go  on,  but  fright 
ening  a  lawyer  is  not  an  every-day  occurrence.  I  once 
frightened  a  pair  of  army  mules ;  but  a  lawyer, — the 
experience  was  too  novel  to  let  pass  lightly.  The 
game  promised  to  fte  worth  the  candle. 

The  scene  shifts  to  a  dingy  little  room  in  the  base-   in  court 
ment   of   the   court-house ;     present,    Straw    Hat   and 
Sandy  Beard,  with  populace. 

To  corroborate — wise  precaution  on  the  part  of  a 
lawyer  in  his  own  court — their  story,  they  bring  along 
a  volunteer  witness  in  over-alls, — the  three  making  a 
trio  hard  to  beat. 

Straw  Hat  takes  the  stand  and  testifies  he  is  an 
unusually  timid  man,  and  was  most  frightened  to 
death. 

Sandy  Beard's  testimony  is  both  graphic  and  cor 
roborative. 


1 66  On  an  Automobile 

The  witness  in  over-alls,  with  some  embellishments 
of  his  own,  supports  Sandy  Beard. 

The  row  of  bricks  is  complete. 

The  court  removes  a  prop  by  remarking  that  the 
ordinance  speed  has  not  been  exceeded. 

The  bricks  totter. 

Whereupon,  Sandy  Beard  now  takes  the  matter  into 
his  own  hands,  and,  ignoring-  the  professional  acquire 
ments  of  his  -principal,  addresses  the  court  and  urges 
the  imposition  of  a  fine, — a  fine  being  the  only  satis 
faction,  and  source  of  immediate  revenue,  conceivable 
to  Sandy  Beard. 

Meanwhile  Straw  Hat  is  silent ;  the  witness  in 
over-alls  is  perturbed. 

The  court  considers  the  matter,  and  says  "  the  em 
barrassing  feature  of  the  case  is  that  it  has  yet  to  be 
shown  that  the  defendant  was  going  at  a  rate  exceed 
ing  ten  miles  an  hour,  and  upon  this  point  the  wit 
nesses  did  not  agree.  There  was  evidence  tending  to 
prove  the  machine  was  going  ten  miles  an  hour,  but 
that  would  not  lead  to  conviction  under  the  first  clause 
of  the  ordinance ;  but  there  is  another  clause  which 
says  that  a  machine  must  not  be  run  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  endanger  or  inconvenience  public  travel.  What 
is  detrimental  to  public  travel  ?  Does  it  mean  to  run 
it  so  as  not  to  frighten  a  man  of  nerve  like  the  chief 
of  police,  or  some  timid  person  ?  It  is  urged  that  not 
one  man  in  a  thousand  would  have  been  frightened 
like  Mr.  -  — ;  but  a  man  is  bound  to  run  his  machine 
in  the  streets  so  as  to  frighten  no  one,  therefore  the 
defendant  is  fined  five  dollars  and  costs." 

The   fine   is    duly    paid,    and    Messrs.    Straw    Hat, 


An   Incident  of  Travel  1 67 

Sandy   Beard,   and   Over-alls   come   forward,   receive 
and  receipt  for  sixty  cents  each. 

Their  wrath  was  appeased,  their  wounded  feelings 
soothed,  their  valor  satisfied, — one  dollar  and  eighty 
cents  for  the  bunch. 


CHAPTER   THIRTEEN 

THROUGH    MASSACHUSETTS 


77<^  Berkshirfs 


THERE  are  several  roads  out  of  Pittsfield  to  Spring- 
field,  and  if  one  asks  a  half-dozen  citizens,  who  pre 
tend  to  know,  which  is  the  best,  a  half-dozen  violently 
conflicting  opinions  will  be  forthcoming. 

The  truth  seems  to  be  that  all  the  roads  are  prettv 
good, — that  is,  they  are  all  very  hilly  and  rather  soft. 
One  expects  the  hills,  and  must  put  up  with  the  sand. 
It  is  impossible  to  get  to  Springfield,  which  is  far  on 
the  other  side  of  the  mountains,  without  making  some 
stiff  grades, — few  grades  so  bad  as  Nelson's  Hill  out 
of  Peekskill,  or  worse  than  Pride's  Hill  near  Fonda ; 
1 68 


Through   Massachusetts  169 

in  fact,  the  grades  through  the  Berkshires  are  no 
worse  than  many  short  stiff  grades  that  are  to  be 
found  in  any  rolling  country,  but  there  are  more  of 
them,  and  occasionally  the  road  is  rough  or  soft, 
making  it  hard  going. 

The  road  commonly  recommended  as  the  more  di 
rect  is  by  way  of  Dalton  and  Hinsdale,  following  as 
closely  as  possible  the  line  of  the  Boston  and  Albany ; 
this  winds  about  in  the  valleys  and  is  said  to  be  very 
good. 

We    preferred    a    more    picturesque    though    less    Through 
travelled   route.     We   wished  to   go  through   Lenox, 
some  six  or  seven  miles  to  the  south,  and  if  anything 
a  little  to  the  west,  and  therefore  out  of  our  direct 
course. 

The  road  from  Pittsfield  to  Lenox  is  a  famous 
drive,  one  of  the  wonders  of  that  little  world.  It  is 
not  bad,  neither  is  it  good.  Compared  with  the  superb 
State  road  over  the  mountain,  it  is  a  trail  over  a 
prairie.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  just  a  broad,  graded, 
and  somewhat  improved  highway,  too  rough  for  fast 
speed  and  comfort,  and  on  the  Saturday  morning  in 
question  dust  was  inches  deep. 

The  day  was  fine,  the  country  beautiful ;  hills  every-  over  the 
where,  hills  so  high  they  were  almost  mountains.  The 
dust  of  summer  was  on  the  foliage,  a  few  late  blossoms 
lingered  by  the  roadside,  but  for  the  most  part  flowers 
had  turned  to  seeds,  and  seeds  were  ready  to  fall.  The 
fields  were  in  stubble,  hay  in  the  mow  and  straw  in  the 
stack.  The  green  of  the  hills  was  deeper  in  hue,  the 
valleys  were  ripe  for  autumn. 


170  On  an  Automobile 

People  were  flocking  to  the  Berkshires  from  sea 
shore  and  mountains;  the  "  season"  was  about  to  begin 
in  earnest ;  hotels  were  filled  or  rapidly  filling,  and 
Lenox — dear,  peaceful  little  village  in  one  of  nature's 
fairest  hollows — was  most  enticing  as  we  passed 
slowly  through,  stopping  once  or  twice  to  make  sure 
of  our  very  uncertain  wav. 


The  slowest  automobile  is  too  fast  for  so  delightful 
a  spot  as  Lenox.  One  should  amble  through  on  a 
palfrey,  or  walk,  or,  better  still,  pass  not  through  at 
all,  but  tarry  and  dream  the  days  away  until  the  last 
leaves  are  off  the  trees.  But  the  habit  of  the  automo 
bile  is  infectious,  one  goes  on  and  on  in  spite  of  all 
attractions,  the  appeals  of  nature,  the  protests  of 
friends.  Ulysses  should  have  whizzed  by  the  Sirens 
in  an  auto.  The  Wandering  Jew,  if  still  on  his  rounds, 
should  buy  a  machine ;  it  will  fit  his  case  to  a  nicety ; 
his  punishment  will  become  a  habit ;  he  will  join  an 
automobile  club,  go  on  an  endurance  contest,  and,  in 
the  brief  moments  allowed  him  for  rest  and  oiling  up, 
will  swap  stories  with  the  boys. 


With  a  sigh  of  relief,  one  finishes  a  long  day's  run, 
thinking  it  will  suffice  for  many  a  day  to  come ;  the 
evening  is  scarce  over  before  elfin  suggestions  of  pos 
sible  rides  for  the  morrow  are  floating  about  in  the 
air,  and  when  morning  comes  the  automobile  is  taken 
out, — very  much  as  the  toper  who  has  sworn  off  the 
night  before  takes  his  morning  dram, — it  just  can't  be 
helped. 


Through   Massachusetts  1 7 1 

Our  way  lay  over  October  Mountain  by  a  road  not  Over  October 
much  frequented.  In  the  morning's  ride  we  did  not 
meet  a  trap  of  any  kind  or  a  rider, — something  quite 
unusual  in  that  country  of  riders  and  drivers.  The 
road  seemed  to  cling  to  the  highest  hills,  and  we 
climbed  up  and  up  for  hours.  Only  once  was  the  grade 
so  steep  that  we  were  obliged  to  dismount.  We  passed 
through  no  village  until  we  reached  the  other  side, 
but  every  now  and  then  we  would  come  to  a  little 
clearing  with  two  or  three  houses,  possibly  a  forlorn 
store  and  a  silent  blacksmith  shop ;  these  spots  seemed 
even  more  lonely  and  deserted  than  the  woods  them 
selves.  Man  is  so  essentially  a  gregarious  animal  that 
to  come  upon  a  lone  house  in  a  wilderness  is  more 
depressing  than  the  forests.  Nature  is  never  alone ; 
it  knows  no  solitude;  it  is  a  mighty  whole,  each  part 
of  which  is  in  constant  communication  with  every 
other  part.  Nature  needs  no  telephone;  from  time 
immemorial  it  has  used  wireless  telegraphy  in  a  con 
dition  of  perfection  unknown  to  man.  Every  morning 
Mount  Blanc  sends  a  message  to  Pike's  Peak,  and  it 
sends  it  on  over  the  waters  to  Fujisan.  The  bosom  of 
the  earth  thrills  with  nervous  energy ;  the  air  is  charged 
with  electric  force ;  the  blue  ether  of  the  universe 
throbs  with  motion.  Nature  knows  no  environment ; 
but  man  is  fettered,  a  spirit  in  a  cage,  a  mourn 
ful  soul  that  seeks  companionship  in  misery.  Soli 
tude  is  a  word  unknown  to  nature's  vocabulary.  The 
deepest  recesses  of  the  forest  teem  with  life  and  joy- 
ousness  until  man  appears,  then  they  are  rilled  with 
solitude.  The  wind-swept  desert  is  one  of  nature's 
play-grounds  until  man  appears,  then  it  is  barren  with 


172  On   an   Automobile 

solitude.  The  darkest  mountain  cavern  echoes  with 
nature's  laughter  until  man  appears,  then  it  is  hollow 
with  solitude.  The  shadow  of  man  is  solitude. 

Instead  of  coming  out  at  Becket  as  we  expected, 
we  found  ourselves  way  down  near  Otis  and  West 
Otis,  and  passed  through  North  Blandford  and  Bland- 
ford  to  Fairfield,  where  we  struck  the  main  road. 

We  stopped  for  dinner  at  a  small  village  a  few 
miles  from  Westfield.  There  was  but  one  store,  but 
it  kept  a  barrel  of  stove  gasoline  in  an  apple  orchard. 
The  gasoline  was  good,  but  the  gallon  measure  into 
which  it  was  drawn  had  been  used  for  oil,  varnish, 
turpentine,  and  every  liquid  a  country  store  is  sup 
posed  to  keep — not  excepting  molasses.  It  was 
crusted  with  sediment  and  had  a  most  evil  smell. 
Needless  to  say  the  measure  was  rejected;  but  that 
availed  little,  since  the  young  clerk  poured  the  gaso 
line  back  into  the  barrel  to  draw  it  out  again  into  a 
cleaner  receptacle. 

The  gasoline  for  sale  at  country  stores  is  usually 
all  right,  but  it  is  handled  in  all  sorts  of  receptacles  ; 
the  only  safe  way  is  to  ask  for  a  bright  and  new 
dipper  and  let  the  store-keeper  guess  at  the  measure. 

Trouble  with          At  Westfield  the  spark  be^an  to  cnve  trouble;    the 

ignition  ,  .  '      . 

machine  was  very  slow  in  starting,  as  if  the  batteries 
were  weak ;  but  that  could  not  be,  for  one  set  was 
fresh  and  the  other  by  no  means  exhausted.  A  care 
ful  examination  of  every  connection  failed  to  disclose 
any  breaks  in  the  circuit,  and  yet  the  spark  was  of 
intermittent  strength, — now  good,  now  weak. 


Through   Massachusetts  173 

When  there  is  anything  wrong  with  an  automobile, 
there  is  but  one  thing  to  do,  and  that  is  find  the  source 
of  the  trouble  and  remedy  it.  The  temptation  is  to 
go  on  if  the  machine  starts  up  unexpectedly.  We 
yielded  to  the  temptation,  and  went  on  as  soon  as  the 
motor  started ;  the  day  was  so  fine  and  we  were  so 
anxious  to  get  to  Worcester  that  we  started  with  the 
motor, — knowing  all  the  time  that  whatever  made  the 
motor  slow  to  start  would,  in  all  likelihood,  bring  us 
to  a  stand-still  before  very  long ;  the  evil  moment, 
possibly  the  evil  hour,  may  be  postponed,  but  seldom 
the  evil  day. 

At  two  o'clock  we  passed  through  Springfield,  stop-  Through 
ping  only  a  moment  at  the  hotel  to  inquire  for  mail.  s^ 
Leaving  Springfield  we  followed  the  main  road  to 
wards  Worcester,  some  fifty  miles  away.  The  road 
is  winding  and  over  a  rolling  country,  but  for  the  most 
part  very  good.  The  grades  are  not  steep,  there  are 
some  sandy  spots,  but  none  so  soft  as  to  materially 
interfere  with  good  speed.  There  are  many  stretches 
of  good  gravel,  and  here  and  there  a  piece — a  sample 
— of  State  road,  perfectly  laid  macadam,  with  signs 
all  along  requesting  persons  not  to  drive  in  the  centre 
of  the  highway, — this  is  to  save  the  road  from  the 
hollows  and  ruts  that  horses  and  narrow-tired  wagons 
invariably  make,  and  in  which  the  water  stands,  ulti 
mately  wearing  the  macadam  through.  We  could  not 
see  that  the  slightest  attention  was  paid  to  the  no 
tices.  Everybody  kept  the  middle  of  the  road,  such 
is  the  improvidence  of  men ;  the  country  people 


174  On  an  Automobile 

Crumble  at  the  great  expense  of  good  roads,  and  then 
take  the  surest  way  to  ruin  them. 

Good-,-oad  While  it  is  true  that  the  people  in  the  first  instance 

grumble  at  the  prospective  cost  of  these  well-made 
State  roads,  no  sooner  are  they  laid  than  their  very 
great  value  is  appreciated,  and  good  roads  sentiment 
becomes  rampant.  The  farmer  who  has  worn  out 
horses,  harness,  wagons,  and  temper  in  getting  light 
loads  to  market  over  heavy  roads  is  quick  to  appre 
ciate  the  very  material  advantage  and  economy  of 
having  highways  over  which  one  horse  can  pull  as 
much  as  two  under  the  old  sandy,  rough,  and  muddy 
conditions. 

A  good  road  may  be  the  making  of  a  town,  and  it 
increases  the  value  of  all  abutting  property.  Already 
the  question  is  commonly  asked  when  a  farm  is  offered 
for  sale  or  rent,  "  Is  it  on  a  State  road  ?"  Lots  will 
not  sell  in  cities  unless  all  improvements  are  in ;  soon 
farmers  will  not  be  able  to  sell  unless  the  highways 
are  improved. 

One  good  thing  about  the  automobile,  it  does  not 
cut  up  the  surface  of  a  macadam  or  gravel  road  as  do 
steel  tires  and  horseshoes. 

The  spark  that  At  the  outskirts  of  the  little  village  of  West  Brook- 
field  we  came  to  a  stand-still ;  the  spark  disappeared, 
— or  rather  from  a  large,  round,  fat  spark  it  dropped 
to  an  insignificant  little  blue  sparklet  that  would  not 
explode  a  squib. 

The  way  the  spark  acted  with  either  or  both  bat 
teries  on  indicated  pretty  strongly  that  the  trouble 


Through   Massachusetts  175 

was  in  the  coil ;  but  it  is  so  seldom  a  coil  goes  wrong- 
that  everything  was  looked  over,  but  no  spark  of  any 
size  was  to  be  had,  therefore  there  was  nothing  to 
do  but  cast  about  for  a  place  to  spend  the  night,  for 
it  was  then  dark. 

As  good  luck  would  have  it,  we  were  almost  in 
front  of  a  large,  comfortable,  old-fashioned  house 
where  they  took  summer  boarders ;  as  the  season  was 
drawing  to  a  close,  there  was  plenty  of  room  and  they 
were  glad  to  take  us  in.  The  machine  was  pushed 
into  a  shed,  everybody  assisting  with  the  readiness 
ever  characteristic  of  sympathetic  on-lookers. 

The  big,  clean,  white  rooms  were  most  inviting;  the  Overnight  at 
homely  New  England  supper  of  cold  meats  and  hot 
rolls  seemed  under  the  circumstances  a  feast  for  a 
king,  and  as  we  sat  in  front  of  the  house  in  the  even 
ing,  and  looked  across  the  highway  to  a  little  lake 
just  beyond  and  heard  the  croaking  of  the  frogs,  the 
chirping  of  crickets,  and  the  many  indistinguishable 
sounds  of  night,  we  were  not  sorry  the  machine  had 
played  us  false  exactly  when  and  where  it  did. 

The  automobile  plays  into  the  hands  of  Morpheus, 
the  drowsy  god  follows  in  its  wake,  sure  of  his  vic 
tims.  No  sleep  is  dreamless.  It  is  pretty  difficult  to 
exhaust  the  three  billions  of  cells  of  the  central  ner 
vous  system  so  that  all  require  rest,  but  ten  hours  on 
an  automobile  in  the  open  air,  speeding  along  like  the 
wind  most  of  the  time,  will  come  nearer  putting  all 
those  cells  to  sleep  than  any  exercise  heretofore  dis 
covered.  The  fatigue  is  normal,  pervasive,  and  per 
suasive,  and  it  is  pretty  hard  to  recall  any  dream  on 
waking. 


176  On  an  Automobile 

A  rainy  It  was  Sunday  morning,  September  I,  and  raining, 

a  soft,  drizzly  downpour,  that  had  evidently  begun 
early  in  the  night  and  kept  up — or  rather  down — 
steadily.  It  was  a  good  morning  to  remain  in-doors 
and  read ;  but  there  was  that  tantalizing  machine 
challenging  combat;  then,  too,  Worcester  was  but 
eighteen  or  twenty  miles  away,  and  at  Worcester  we 
expected  to  find  letters  and  telegrams. 


A  young  and  clever  electrician  across  the  way  came 
over,  bringing  an  electric  bell,  with  which  we  tested 
the  dry  cells,  finding  them  in  good  condition.  We 
then  examined  the  connections  and  ran  the  trouble 
back  to  the  coil.  There  was  plenty  of  current  and 
plenty  of  voltage,  but  only  a  little  blue  spark,  which 
could  be  obtained  equally  well  with  the  coil  in  or  out 
of  the  circuit,  and  yet  the  coil  did  not  show  a  short 
circuit,  but  before  we  finished  our  tests  the  spark 
suddenly  appeared. 

Again,  it  would  have  been  better  to  remain  and  find 
the  trouble ;  but  as  there  was  no  extra  coil  to  be  had 
in  the  village,  it  seemed  fairly  prudent  to  start  on  and 
get  as  far  as  possible.  Possibly  the  coil  would  hold 
out  to  Worcester ;  anyway,  the  road  is  a  series  of 
villages,  some  larger  than  Brookfield,  and  a  coil  might 
be  found  at  one  of  them. 


The  spark  goes  When  within  two  miles  of  Spencer  the  spark  gave 
out  again ;  this  time  no  amount  of  coaxing  would 
bring  it  back,  so  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  appeal 


Through  Massachusetts  1 77 

to  a  fanner  for  a  pair  of  horses  to  pull  the  machine 
into  his  yard.  The  assistance  was  most  kindly  given, 
though  the  day  was  Sunday,  and  for  him,  his  men 
and  his  animals,  emphatically  a  day  of  rest. 

Only  twice  on  the  entire  trip  were  horses  attached 
to  the  machine ;  but  a  sparking  coil  is  absolutely  essen 
tial,  and  when  one  gives  out  it  is  pretty  hard  to  make 
repairs  on  the  road.  In  case  of  necessity  a  coil  may 
be  unwound,  the  trouble  discovered  and  remedied,  but 
that  is  a  tedious  process.  It  was  much  easier  to  leave 
the  machine  for  the  night,  run  into  Worcester  on  the 
trolley  which  passed  along  the  same  road,  and  bring 
out  a  new  coil  in  the  morning. 

Monday  happened  to  be  Labor  Day,  and  it  was  Labor  Day 
only  after  much  trouble  that  a  place  was  found  open 
where  electrical  supplies  could  be  purchased.  In  addi 
tion  to  a  coil,  the  electrician  took  out  some  thoroughly 
insulated  double  cable  wire ;  the  wiring  of  the  ma 
chine  had  been  so  carelessly  done  and  with  such  light, 
cheap  wire  that  it  seemed  a  good  opportunity  to  re 
wire  throughout. 

The  electrician — a  very  competent  and  quick  work- 
mar,  he  proved  to  be — was  so  sure  the  trouble  could 
not  be  in  the  coil  that  he  did  not  wish  to  carry  out  a 
new  one. 

When  ready  to  start,  we  found  the  trolley  line 
blocked  by  a  Labor  Day  parade  that  was  just  begin 
ning  to  move.  The  procession  was  unusually  long  on 
account  of  striking  trades  unionists,  who  turned  out 
in  force.  As  each  section  of  strikers  passed,  the  elec- 


12 


i78 


On  an  Automobile 


trician  explained  the  cause  of  their  strike,  the  number 
of  men  out,  and  the  length  of  time  they  had  been 
out. 


Strikes  and 
strikers 


The  strike 
habit 


It  seemed  too  bad  that  big,  brawny,  intelligent  men 
could  find  no  better  way  of  adjusting  differences  with 
employers  than  by  striking. 

A  strike  is  an  expensive  luxury.  Three  parties  are 
losers, — the  community  in  general  by  being  deprived 
for  the  time  being  of  productive  forces ;  the  em 
ployers  by  loss  on  capital  invested ;  the  employees 
by  loss  of  wages.  The  loss  to  the  community,  while 
very  real,  is  little  felt.  Employers,  as  a  rule,  are  pre 
pared  to  stand  their  losses  with  equanimity ;  in  fact, 
when  trade  is  dull,  or  when  an  employer  desires  to 
make  changes  in  his  business,  a  strike  is  no  inconve 
nience  at  all ;  but  the  men  are  the  real  losers,  and 
especially  those  with  families  and  with  small  homes 
unpaid  for ;  no  one  can  measure  their  losses,  for  it 
may  mean  the  savings  of  a  lifetime.  It  frequently  does 
mean  a  change  in  character  from  an  industrious,  fru 
gal,  contented  workman  with  everything  to  live  for,  to 
a  shiftless  and  discontented  man  with  nothing  to  live 
for  but  agitation  and  strife. 

It  is  easy  to  acquire  the  strike  habit,  and  impossible 
to  throw  it  off.  A  first  strike  is  more  dangerous  than 
a  first  drink ;  it  makes  a  profound  and  ineradicable 
impression.  To  quit  wrork  for  the  first  time  at  the 
command  of  some  central  organization  is  an  experi 
ence  so  novel  that  no  man  can  do  it  without  being 
affected ;  he  will  never  again  be  the  same  steady  and 


Through  Massachusetts  179 

indefatigable  workman ;  the  spirit  of  unrest  creeps 
in,  the  spirit  of  discontent  closely  follows ;  his  life 
is  changed ;  though  he  never  goes  through  another 
strike,  he  can  never  forget  his  first. 

In  the  long  run  it  does  not  matter  much  which  side  The  ultimate 
wins,  the  effect  is  very  much  the  same, — strikes  are 
bound  to  follow  strikes.  Warfare  is  so  natural  to 
men  that  it  is  difficult  to  declare  a  lasting  peace.  But 
some  day  the  men  themselves  will  see  that  strikes  are 
far  more  disastrous  to  them  than  to  any  other  class, 
and  they  will  devise  other  ways  and  means ;  they  will 
use  the  strength  of  their  organizations  to  better  ad 
vantage  ;  above  all,  they  will  relegate  to  impotency 
the  professional  organizers  and  agitators  who  retain 
their  positions  by  fomenting  strife. 

It  is  singular  that  workmen  do  not  take  a  lesson 
from  their  shrewder  employers,  who,  if  they  have  or 
ganizations  of  their  own,  never  confer  upon  any  officer 
or  committee  of  idlers  the  power  to  control  the  trade. 
An  organization  of  employers  is  always  controlled  by 
those  most  actively  engaged  in  the  business,  and  not 
by  coteries  of  paid  idlers ;  no  central  committee  of 
men,  with  nothing  to  do  but  make  trouble,  can  involve 
a  whole  trade  in  costly  controversies.  The  strength 
of  the  employer  lies  in  the  fact  that  each  man  con 
sults  first  his  own  interest,  and  if  the  action  of  the 
body  bids  fair  to  injure  his  individual  interests  he 
not  only  protests,  but  threatens  to  withdraw;  the 
employer  cannot  be  cowed  bv  any  association  of  which 
he  is  a  member ;  but  the  employee  is  cowed  by  his 
union, — that  is  the  essential  difference  between  the 


180  On  an  Automobile 

two.  An  association  of  employers  is  a  union  of  inde 
pendent  and  aggressive  units,  and  the  action  of  the 
association  must  meet  the  approval  of  each  of  these 
units  or  disruption  will  follow.  Workingmen  do  not 
seem  to  appreciate  the  value  of  the  unit ;  they  are 
attracted  by  masses.  They  seem  to  think  strength  lies 
only  in  members ;  but  that  is  the  keynote  of  mili- 
tantism,  the  death-knell  of  individualism.  The  real, 
the  only  strength  of  a  union  lies  in  the  silent,  uncon- 
sulted  units;  now  and  then  they  rise  up  and  act  and 
the  union  accomplishes  something;  for  the  most  part 
they  do  not  act,  but  are  blindly  led,  and  the  union 
accomplishes  nothing. 

A  workman's  It  was  interesting  to  hear  the  comments  of  the  in 

telligent  young  mechanic  as  the  different  trades  passed 
by. 

'  Those  fellows  are  out  on  a  sympathetic  strike ;  no 
grievance  at  all,  plenty  of  work  and  good  wages,  but 
just  out  because  they  are  told  to  come  out;  big  fools, 
I  say,  to  be  pulled  about  by  the  nose. 

"  There  are  the  plumbers ;  their  union  makes  more 
trouble  than  any  other  in  the  building  trades ;  they 
are  always  looking  for  trouble,  and  manage  to  find  it 
when  no  one  else  can. 

"  Unions  are  all  right  for  bachelors  who  can  afford 
to  loaf,  but  they  are  pretty  hard  on  the  married  man 
with  a  family. 

"  What's  gained  in  a  strike  is  lost  in  the  fight. 

''  What's  the  use  of  staying  out  three  months  to  get 
a  ten  per  cent,  raise  for  nine?  Jt  doesn't  pay. 

"  Wages    have    been    going    up    for    two    hundred 


Through   Massachusetts  1 8  i 

years.     I    can't  sec  that  the  strike  has  advanced  the 
rate  of  increase  any. 

"  These  fellows  have  tried  to  monopolize  Labor 
Day ;  they  don't  want  any  non-union  man  in  the 
parade ;  the  people  will  not  stand  for  that  very  long ; 
labor  is  labor  whether  union  or  non-union,  and  the 
great  majority  of  workingmen  in  this  country  are  not 
members  of  any  union." 

The  parade,  like  all  things  good,  came  to  an  end, 
and  we  took  the  trolley  for  the  place  where  the  auto 
mobile  had  been  left. 

On  arriving  we  took  out  the  dry  cells,  tested  each 
one,  and  then  rewired  the  carriage  complete  and  in  a 
manner  to  defy  rain,  sand,  and  oil.  The  difficulty, 
however,  was  in  the  coil.  Apparently  the  motion  of 
the  vehicle  had  worn  the  insulation  through  at  some 
point  inside.  The  new  coil,  a  common  twelve-inch  coil, 
worked  well,  giving  a  good,  hot  spark. 

The  farmer  who  had  so  kindly  pulled  the  machine 
in  the  day  before  would  accept  nothing  for  his  trouble, 
and  was,  as  most  farmers  are,  exceedingly  kind.  It  is 
embarrassing  to  call  upon  strangers  for  assistance 
which  means  work  and  inconvenience  for  them,  and 
then  have  them  positively  decline  all  compensation. 

The  ride  into  Worcester  was  a  fast  one  over  good    TO  Bosto 
gravel  and  macadam. 

Immediately  after  luncheon  we  started  for  Boston. 
Every  foot  of  the  road  in  from  Worcester  is  good  hard 
gravel  and  the  ride  is  most  delightful.  As  it  was  a 
holiday  and  the  highway  was  comparatively  free  of 
traffic,  we  travelled  along  faster  than  usual. 


1 82  On  an  Automobile 

It  was  our  intention  to  follow  the  main  road  through 
Shrewsbury,  Southborough,  Framingham,  and  Wel 
lesley,  but  though  man  proposes,  in  the  suburbs  of 
Boston  Providence  disposes.  About  Southborough 
we  lost  our  road,  and  were  soon  angling  to  the  north 
east  through  the  Sudburys.  So  far  as  the  road  itself 
was  concerned  the  change  was  for  the  better,  for, 
while  there  would  be  stretches  which  were  not  grav 
elled,  the  country  was  more  interesting  than  along  the 
main  highway. 

The  turnpike  The  old  "  Worcester  Turnpike"  is  Boyleston  Street 
in  Boston  and  through  Brookline  to  the  Newtons, 
where  it  becomes  plain  Worcester  Street  and  bears 
that  name  westward  through  Wellesley  and  Natick. 

The  trolley  line  out  of  Worcester  is  through  Shrews 
bury  and  Northborough  to  Maryborough,  then  a  turn 
almost  due  south  to  Southborough,  then  east  to 
Framingham,  southeast  to  South  Framingham,  east 
through  Natick  to  Wellesley,  northeast  through 
Wellesley  Hills  to  Newton,  then  direct  through 
Brookline  into  Boston. 

The  road,  it  will  be  noted,  is  far  from  straight,  and 
it  is  at  the  numerous  forks  and  turns  one  is  apt  to  go 
astray  unless  constant  inquiries  are  made. 

At  Marlborough  we  kept  on  to  the  east  towards 
Waltham  instead  of  turning  to  the  south  for  South- 
borough.  It  is  but  a  few  miles  out  of  the  way  from 
Marlborough  to  Concord  and  into  Boston  by  way  of 
Lexington ;  or,  if  the  road  through  Wellesley  and 
Newton  is  followed,  it  is  worth  while  to  turn  from 
Wellesley  Hills  to  Norembega  Park  for  the  sake  of 


Through   Massachusetts  183 

stopping  a  few  moments  on  the  spot  where  Norembega 
Tower  confidently  proclaims  the  discovery  of  America 
and  the  founding  of  a  fortified  place  by  the  Norsemen 
nearly  five  hundred  years  before  Columbus  sailed  out 
of  the  harbor  of  Palos. 

Having  wandered  from  the  old  turnpike,  we  thought 
we  would  go  by  Concord  and  Lexington,  but  did  not. 
The  truth  is  the  automobile  is  altogether  too  fast  a 
conveyance  for  the  suburbs  of  Boston,  which  were  laid 
out  by  cows  for  the  use  of  pedestrians.  There  are  an 
infinite  number  of  forks,  angles,  and  turnings,  and  by 
a  native  on  foot  short  cuts  can  be  made  to  any  objec 
tive  point,  but  the  automobile  passes  a  byway  before 
it  is  seen.  Directions  are  given  but  not  followed,  be 
cause  turns  and  obscure  cross-roads  are  passed  at  high 
speed  and  unobserved. 

Every  one  is  most  obliging  in  giving  directions,  but  Among-  the 
the  directions  run  about  like  this : 

'  To  Concord? — yes, — let  me  see ; — do  you  know  the 
Old  Sudbury  road  ? — No  ! — strangers  ? — ah  !  that's  too 
bad,  for  if  you  don't  know  the  roads  it  will  be  hard 
telling  you — but  let  me  see ; — if  you  follow  this  road 
about  a  mile,  you  will  come  to  a  brick  store  and  a 
watering  trough, — take  the  turn  to  the  left  there ; — 
I  think  that  is  the  best  road,  or  you  can  take  a  turn 
this  side,  but  if  I  were  you  I  would  take  the  road  at  the 
watering  trough ; — from  there  it  is  about  eight  miles, 
and  I  think  you  make  three  turns, — but  you  better  in 
quire,  for  if  you  don't  know  the  roads  it  is  pretty  hard 
to  direct  vou." 


184  On  an   Automobile 

"  We  follow  this  road  straight  ahead  to  the  brick 
store  and  trough,  that's  easy.'1 

"  Well,  the  road  is  not  exactly  straight,  but  if  you 
bear  to  the  right,  then  take  the  second  left  hand  fork, 
you'll  be  all  right." 

All  of  which  things  we  most  faithfully  performed, 
and  yet  we  got  no  nearer  that  day  than  "  about  eight 
miles  farther  to  Concord." 

In  circling  about  we  came  quite  unexpectedly  upon 
the  old  "  Red  Horse"  tavern,  now  the  "  Wayside  Inn." 
We  brought  the  machine  to  a  stop  and  gazed  long  and 
lovingly  at  the  ancient  hostelry  which  had  given  shelter 
to  famous  men  for  nearly  two  hundred  years,  and 
where  congenial  spirits  gathered  in  Longfellow's  days 
and  the  imaginary  "  Tales  of  a  Wayside  fnn"  were 
exchanged. 
The  ^Red  f  jie  mellow  light  of  the  setting  sun  warmed  the 

Horse  Tavern"       .  .  ° 

time-worn  structure  with  a  friendly  glow.  The  sign 
of  the  red  horse  rampant  creaked  mournfully  as  it- 
swung  slowly  to  and  fro  in  the  gentle  breeze ;  with 
palsied  arms  and  in  cracked  tones  the  old  inn  seemed 
to  bid  us  stay  and  rest  beneath  its  sheltering  eaves. 
Washington  and  Hamilton  and  Lafayette,  Emerson 
and  Hawthorne  and  Longfellow  had  entered  that  door, 
eaten  and  drunk  within  those  humble  walls, — the  great 
in  war,  statecraft,  and  literature  had  been  its  guests ; 
like  an  old  man  it  lives  with  its  memories,  recalls  the 
associations  of  its  youth  and  prime,  but  slumbers  ob 
livious  to  the  present. 

The  old  inn  was  so  fascinating  that  we  determined  to 
come  back  in  a  few  days  and  spend  at  least  a  night 


Through   Massachusetts  185 

beneath  its  roof.    The  shadows  were  so  rapidly  length 
ening  that  we  had  to  hurry  on. 

Crossing  the  Charles  River  near  Anhurndale  a  sight  A  fleet  of 
of  such  bewitching  beauty  met  our  astonished  gaze 
that  we  stopped  to  make  inquiries.  Above  and  below 
the  bridge  the  river  was  covered  with  gayly  decorated 
canoes  which  were  being  paddled  about  by  laughing 
and  singing  young  people.  The  brilliant  colors  of  the 
decorations,  the  pretty  costumes,  the  background  of 
dark  water,  the  shores  lined  with  people  and  equipages, 
the  bridge  so  crowded  we  could  hardly  get  through, 
made  a  never-to-be-forgotten  picture.  It  was  just  a 
holiday  canoe-meet,  and  hundreds  of  the  small,  frail 
craft  wrere  darting  about  upon  the  surface  of  the  water 
like  so  many  pretty  dragon-flies.  The  automobile 
seemed  such  an  intrusion,  a  drone  of  prose  in  a  burst 
of  poetry,  the  discord  of  machinery  in  a  sylvan  sym 
phony. 

We  stopped  a  few  moments  at  Lasell  Seminary  in  A  gh-rs  school 
Auburndale,  where  old  associations  were  revived  by 
my  Companion  over  a  cup  of  tea.  A  girl's  school  is 
a  mysterious  place ;  there  is  an  atmosphere  of  sup 
pressed  mischief,  of  things  threatened  but  never  quite 
committed,  of  latent  possibilities,  and  still  more  latent 
impossibilities.  In  a  boy's  school  mischief  is  evident 
and  rampant ;  desks,  benches,  and  walls  are  whittled 
and  defaced  with  all  the  wanton  destructiveness  of 
youth ;  buildings  and  fences  show  marks  of  contact 
with  budding  manhood ;  but  boys  are  so  openly  and 
notoriously  mischievous  that  no  apprehension  is  felt, 


i86 


On  an   Automobile 


for  the  worst  is  ever  realized ;  but  those  in  command 
of  a  school  of  demure  and  saintly  girls  must  feel  like 
men  handling  dynamite,  uncertain  what  will  happen 
next ;  the  stolen  pie,  the  hidden  sweets,  the  furtive 
note  are  indications  of  the  infinite  subtlety  of  the 
female  mind. 


Boston 


The  North 
Shore 


From  Auburndale  the  boulevard  leads  into  Common 
wealth  Avenue  and  the  run  is  fine. 

It  was  about  seven  o'clock  when  we  reached  the 
Hotel  Touraine,  and  a  little  later  when  the  machine 
was  safely  housed  in  an  automobile  station, — a  part  of 
an  old  railway  depot. 

A  few  days  in  Boston  and  on  the  North  Shore 
afforded  a  welcome  change. 

Through  Beverly  and  Manchester  the  signs  "  Auto 
mobiles  not  allowed"  at  private  roadways  are  nu 
merous  ;  they  are  the  rule  rather  than  the  exception. 
One  young  man  had  a  machine  up  there,  but  found 
himself  so  ostracized  he  shipped  it  away.  No  ma 
chines  are  allowed  on  the  grounds  of  the  Essex  Coun 
try  Club. 

No  man  with  the  slightest  consideration  for  the  com 
fort  and  pleasure  of  others  would  care  to  keep  and 
use  a  machine  in  places  where  so  many  women  and 
children  are  riding  and  driving.  The  charm  of  the 
North  Shore  and  the  Berkshires  lies  largely  in  the 
opportunities  afforded  for  children  to  be  out  with  their 
ponies,  girls  with  their  carts,  and  women  with  horses 
too  spirited  to  stand  unusual  sights  and  sounds.  One 
automobile  may  terrorize  the  entire  little  community ; 


Through   Massachusetts  187 

in  fact,  one  machine  will  spread  terror  where  many 
would  not. 

It  is  quite  difficult  enough  to  drive  a  machine  care 
fully  through  such  resorts,  without  driving  about  day 
after  day  to  the  discomfort  of  every  resident. 

In  a  year  or  two  all  will  be  changed  ;  the  people  own 
ing  summer  homes  will  themselves  own  and  use  auto 
mobiles  ;  the  horses  will  see  so  many  that  little  notice 
will  be  taken,  but  the  pioneers  of  the  sport  will  have  an 
unenviable  time. 

A  good  half-day's  work  was  required  on  the  machine  Some  repairs 
before  starting  again. 

The  tire  that  had  been  plugged  with  rubber  bands 
weeks  before  in  Indiana  was  now  leaking,  the  air 
creeping  through  the  fabric  and  oozing  out  at  several 
places.  The  leak  was  not  bad,  just  about  enough  to 
require  pumping  every  day. 

The  extra  tire  that  had  been  following  along  was 
taken  out  of  the  express  office  and  put  on.  It  was  a 
tire  that  had  been  punctured  and  repaired  at  the  fac 
tory.  It  looked  all  right,  but  as  it  turned  out  the  repair 
was  poorly  made,  and  it  would  have  been  better  to 
leave  on  the  old  tire,  inflating  it  each  day. 

A  small  needle-valve  was  worn  so  that  it  leaked ; 
that  was  replaced.  A  stiffer  spring  was  inserted  in  the 
intake-valve  so  it  would  not  open  quite  so  easily.  A 
number  of  minor  things  were  done,  and  every  nut  and 
bolt  tried  and  tightened. 


THE 


INN 


CHAPTER   FOURTEEN 

LEXINGTON    AND    CONCORD 


SATURDAY  morning,  September  7,  at  eleven  o'clock, 
we  left  the  Touraine  for  Auburndale,  where  we 
lunched,  then  to  Waltham,  and  from  there  due  north 
by  what  is  known  as  Waltham  Street  to  Lexington, 
striking  Massachusetts  Avenue  just  opposite  the  town 
hall. 

Paul  Revere  Along  this  historic  highway  rode  Paul  Revere ;    at 

his  heels  followed  the  regulars  of  King  George.    Tab 
lets,  stones,  and  monuments  mark  every  known  point 
of  interest  from  East  Lexington  to  Concord. 
1 88 


Lexington  and  Concord  189 

In  Boston,  at  the  head  of  Hull  Street,  Christ  Church, 
the  oldest  church  in  the  city,  still  stands,  and  bears  a 
tablet  claiming  for  its  steeple  the  credit  of  the  signals 
for  Paul  Revere ;  but  the  Old  North  Church  in  North 
Square,  near  which  Revere  lived  and  where  he  attended 
service,  and  from  the  belfry  of  which  the  lanterns  were 
really  hung,  disappeared  in  the  conflict  it  initiated.  In 
the  winter  of  the  siege  of  Boston  the  old  meeting 
house  was  pulled  down  by  the  British  soldiers  and 
used  for  firewood.  Fit  ending  of  the  ancient  edifice 
which  had  stood  for  almost  exactly  one  hundred  years, 
and  in  which  the  three  Mathers,  Increase,  Cotton,  and 
Samuel, — father,  son,  and  grandson, — had  preached 
the  unctuous  doctrine  of  hell-fire  and  damnation : 
teaching  so  incendiary  was  bound  sooner  or  later  to 
consume  its  own  habitation. 

Revere  was  not  the  only  messenger  of  warning.  The  night  of 
For  days  the  patriots  had  been  anxious  concerning  i 
the  stores  of  arms  and  ammunition  at  Concord,  and 
three  days  before  the  night  of  the  i8th  Revere  himself 
had  warned  Hancock  and  Adams  at  the  Clarke  home 
in  Lexington  that  plans  were  on  foot  in  the  enemies' 
camp  to  destroy  the  stores,  whereupon  a  portion  was 
removed  to  Sudbury  and  Groton.  Before  Revere 
started  on  his  ride,  other  messengers  had  been  de 
spatched  to  alarm  the  country,  but  at  ten  o'clock  on 
the  memorable  night  of  the  i8th  he  was  sent  for  and 
bidden  to  get  ready.  He  got  his  riding-boots  and 
surtout  from  his  house  in  North  Square,  was  ferried 
across  the  river,  landing  on  the  Charlestown  side  about 
eleven  o'clock,  where  he  was  told  the  signal-lights  had 


190  On  an  Automobile 

already  been  displayed  in  the  belfry.  The  moon  was 
rising  as  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  started  for  Lex 
ington. 

The  troops  were  ahead  of  him  by  an  hour. 

He  rode  up  what  is  now  Main  Street  as  far  as  the 
"  Neck,"  then  took  the  old  Cambridge  road  for  Somer- 
ville. 

To  escape  two  British  officers  who  barred  his  way, 
he  dashed  across  lots  to  the  main  road  again  and  took 
what  is  now  Broadway.  On  he  went  over  the  hill  to 
Medford,  where  he  aroused  the  Medford  minute-men. 
Then  through  West  Medford  and  over  the  Mystic 
Bridge  to  Menotomy, — now  Arlington, — where  he 
struck  the  highway, — now  Massachusetts  Avenue, — 
to  Lexington.  Galloping  up  to  the  old  Clarke  house 
where  Hancock  and  Adams  were  sleeping,  the  patriot 
on  guard  cautioned  him  not  to  make  so  much  noise. 

"  Noise !  you'll  have  enough  of  it  here  before  long. 
The  Regulars  are  coming." 

Awakened  by  the  voice,  Hancock  put  his  head  out 
of  the  window  and  said, — 

"  Come  in,  Revere;    we're  not  afraid  of  you." 

Soon  the  old  house  was  alight.  Revere  entered  the 
*'  living  room"  by  the  side  door  and  delivered  his  mes 
sage  to  the  startled  occupants.  Soon  they  were  joined 
by  Dawes,  another  messenger  by  another  road.  After 
refreshing  themselves,  Revere  and  Dawes  set  off  for 
Concord.  On  the  road  Samuel  Prescott  joined  them. 
When  about  half-way,  four  British  officers,  mounted 
and  fully  armed,  stopped  them.  Prescott  jumped  over 
the  low  stone  wall,  made  his  escape  and  alarmed  Con 
cord.  Dawes  was  chased  by  two  of  the  officers  until. 


Lexington  and  Concord  191 

with  rare  shrewdness,  he  dashed  up  in  front  of  a  de 
serted  farm-house  and  shouted,  "  Hello,  boys !  I've 
got  two  of  them,"  frightening  off  his  pursuers. 

Revere  was  captured.  Without  fear  or  humiliation 
he  told  his  name  and  his  mission.  Frightened  by  the 
sound  of  firing  at  Lexington,  the  officers  released  their 
prisoner,  and  he  made  his  way  back  to  Hancock  and 
Adams  and  accompanied  them  to  what  is  now  the  town 
of  Burlington.  Hastening  back  to  Lexington  for  a 
trunk  containing  valuable  papers,  he  was  present  at 
the  battle, — the  fulfilment  of  his  warning,  the  red  after 
glow  of  the  lights  from  the  belfry  of  Old  North 
Church. 

He  lived  for  forty-odd  years  to  tell  the  story  of  his 
midnight  ride,  and  now  he  sleeps  with  Hancock  and 
Adams,  the  parents  of  Franklin,  Peter  Faneuil,  and  a 
host  of  worthy  men  in  the  "  Granary." 

The  good  people  of  Massachusetts  have  done  what  oid  names  and 
they  could  to  commemorate  the  events  and  obliterate 
the  localities  of  those  great  days  ;  they  have  erected 
monuments  and  put  up  tablets  in  great  numbers ;  but 
while  marking  the  spots  where  events  occurred,  they 
have  changed  the  old  names  of  roads  and  places  until 
contemporary  accounts  require  a  glossary  for  inter 
pretation. 

Who  would  recognize  classic  Menotomy  in  the  tinsel 
ring  of  Arlington?  The  good  old  Indian  name,  the 
very  speaking  of  which  is  a  pleasure,  has  given  place 
to  the  first-class  apartments, — steam-heated,  electric- 
lights,  hot  and  cold  water,  all  improvements — in  appel 
lations  of  Arlington  and  Arlington  Heights.  A  tablet 


192  On  an   Automobile 

marks  the  spot  where  on  April  19  "  the  old  men  of 
Menotomy"  captured  a  convoy  of  British  soldiers. 
Poor  old  men,  once  the  boast  and  glory  of  the  place 
that  knew  you ;  but  now  the  passing  traveller  curi 
ously  reads  the  inscription  and  wonders  "  Why  were 
they  called  the  old  men  'of  Menotomy'?"  for  there  is 
now  no  such  place. 
Massachusetts  Massachusetts  Avenue  —  Massachusetts  Avenue ! 

Avenue  ,  ,  ,  .         .          . 

there  s  a  name,  a  great,  big,  luscious  name,  a  name 
that  savors  of  brown  stone  fronts  and  plush  rockers; 
a  name  which  goes  well  with  the  commercial  pros 
perity  of  Boston.  Massachusetts  Avenue  extends  from 
Dorchester  in  Boston  to  Lexington  Green  ;  it  has  ab 
sorbed  the  old  Cambridge  and  the  old  Lexington  roads  ; 
the  old  Long  Bridge  lives  in  history,  but,  rechristened 
Brighton  Bridge,  the  reader  fails  to  identify  it. 

Concord  remains  and  Lexington  remains,  simply  be 
cause  no  real  estate  boom  has  yet  reached  them,  but 
Bunker  Hill, — there  is  a  feeling  that  apartments  would 
rent  better  if  the  musty  associations  of  the  spot  were 
obliterated  by  some  such  name  as  "  Buckingham 
Heights/'  or  "  Commonwealth  Crest ;"  '  The  Acropo 
lis"  has  been  prayerfully  considered  by  the  freemen  of 
the  modern  Athens ; — whatever  the  decision  may  be, 
certain  it  is  the  name  Bunker  Hill  is  a  heavy  load  for 
choice  corners  in  the  vicinity. 

There  are  a  few  old  names  still  left  in  Massachu 
setts, — Jingleberry  Hill  and  Chillyshally  Brook  sound 
as  if  they  once  meant  something;  Spot  Pond,  named 
1)y  Governor  Winthrop,  has  not  lost  its  birthright ; 
Powder-Horn  Hill  records  its  purchase  from  the  In 
dians  for  a  hornful  of  powder — probably  damp; 


Lexington  and  Concord  193 

Drinkwater  River  is  a  good  name, — Strong  Water 
Brook  by  many  is  considered  better.  It  is  well  to 
record  these  names  before  they  are  effaced  by  the 
commercialism  rampant  in  the  suburbs  of  Boston. 

At  the  Town  Hall  in  Lexington  we  turned  to  the   Foiicn  church 
right  for  East  Lexington,  and  made  straight  for  Pollen 
Church,  and  the  home  of  Dr.  Pollen  close  by,  where 
Emerson  preached  in  1836  and  1837. 

The  church  was  not  built  until  1839.  ^n  January, 
1840,  the  congregation  had  assembled  in  their  new 
edifice  for  the  dedication  services.  They  waited  for 
their  pastor,  who  was  expected  home  from  a  visit  to 
New  York,  but  the  Long  Island  Sound  steamer — 
Lexington,  by  strange  coincidence  it  was  called — had 
burned  and  Dr.  Pollen  was  among  the  lost.  His  home 
is  now  the  East  Lexington  Branch  of  the  Public 
Library. 

We  climbed  the  stairs  that  led  to  the  small  upper 
room  where  Emerson  filled  his  last  regular  charge. 
Small  as  was  the  room,  it  probably  more  than  sufficed 
for  the  few  people  who  were  sufficiently  advanced  for 
his  notions  of  a  preacher's  mission.  He  did  not  be 
lieve  in  the  rites  the  church  clung  to  as  indispensable ; 
he  did  not  believe  in  the  use  of  bread  and  wine  in  the 
Lord's  Supper ;  he  did  not  believe  in  prayers  from  the 
pulpit  unless  the  preacher  felt  impelled  to  pray ;  he 
did  not  believe  in  ritualism  or  formalism  of  any  kind, 
—in  short,  he  did  not  believe  in  a  church,  for  a  church, 
however  broad  and  liberal,  is,  after  all,  an  institution, 
and  no  one  man,  however  great,  can  support  an  insti 
tution.  A  very  great  soul — and  Emerson  was  a  great 

13 


194  n  an  Automobile 

soul — may  carry  a  following  through  life  and  long 
after  death,  but  that  following  is  not  a  church,  not  an 
institution,  not  a  living  organized  body,  until  forms, 
conventions,  and  traditions  make  it  so;  its  vitalizing 
element  may  be  the  soul  of  its  founder,  but  the  frame 
work  of  the  structure,  the  skeleton,  is  made  up  of  the 
more  or  less  rigid  conventions  which  are  the  results 
of  natural  and  logical  selection. 

The  ritual  of  Rome,  the  service  of  England,  the  dry 
formalism  of  Calvinism,  the  slender  structure  of  Uni- 
tarianism  were  all  equally  repugnant  to  Emerson ;  he 
could  not  stretch  himself  in  their  fetters ;  he  was  not 
at  ease  in  any  priestly  garment.  Born  a  prophet,  he 
could  not  become  a  priest.  By  nature  a  teacher  and 
preacher,  he  never  could  submit  to  those  restrictions 
which  go  so  far  to  make  preaching  effective.  He 
taught  the  lesson  of  the  ages,  but  he  mistook  it  for  his 
own.  He  belonged  to  humanity,  but  he  detached  him 
self.  He  was  a  leader,  but  would  acknowledge  no 
discipline.  Men  cried  out  to  him,  but  he  wandered 
apart.  He  was  an  intellectual  anarchist  of  rare  and 
lovely  type ;  few  sweeter  souls  ever  lived,  but  he  defied 
order. 

Not  that  Emerson  would  have  been  any  better  if  he 
had  submitted  to  the  discipline  of  some  church ;  he 
did  what  he  felt  impelled  to  do,  and  left  the  world  a 
precious  legacy  of  ideas,  of  brilliant,  beautiful 
thoughts;  but  thoughts  which  are  brilliant  and 
beautiful  as  the  stars  are,  scattered  jewels  against 
the  background  of  night  with  no  visible  connection. 
Is  it  not  possible  that  the  gracious  discipline  of  an 


Lexington  and  Concord  195 

environment  more  conventional  might  have  reduced 
these  thoughts  to  some  sort  of  order,  brought  the  stars 
into  constellations,  and  left  suggestions  for  the  order 
ing  of  life  that  would  be  of  greater  force  and  more 
permanent  value  ? 

His  wife  relates  that  one  day  he  was  reading  an  old 
sermon  in  the  little  room  in  the  Pollen  mansion,  when 
he  stopped,  and  said,  "  The  passage  which  I  have  just 
read  I  do  not  believe,  but  it  was  wrongly  placed." 

The  circumstance  illustrates  the  openness  and  frank 
ness  of  his  mind,  but  it  is  also  a  commentary  on  the 
want  of  system  in  his  intellectual  processes.  His  habit 
through  life  was  to  jot  down  thoughts  as  they  came 
to  him;  he  kept  note-books  and  journals  all  his  life; 
he  dreamed  in  the  pine  woods  by  day  and  walked  be 
neath  the  stars  by  night ;  he  sat  by  the  still  waters  and 
wandered  in  the  green  fields ;  and  the  dreams  and  the 
visions  and  the  fancies  of  the  moment  he  faithfully 
recorded.  These  disjointed  musings  and  disconnected 
thoughts  formed  the  raw  material  of  all  he  ever  said 
and  wrote.  From  the  accumulated  stores  of  years  he 
would  draw  whatever  was  necessary  to  meet  the  needs 
of  the  hour;  and  it  did  not  matter  to  him  if  thought 
did  not  dovetail  into  thought  with  all  the  precision  of 
good  intellectual  carpentry.  His  edifices  were  filled 
with  chinks  and  unfinished  apartments. 

He  saw  things  in  a  big  way,  but  did  not  always  see 
them  as  through  crystal,  clearly;  nor  did  he  always 
take  his  staff  in  hand  and  courageously  go  about  to  see 
all  sides  of  things.  He  never  thought  to  a  finish.  His 
philosophy  never  acquired  form  and  substance.  His 


196  On  an  Automobile 

thoughts  are  not  linked  in  chain,  but  are  just  so  many 
precious  pearls  lightly  strung  on  a  silken  thread. 

In  1852  he  wrote  in  his  journal,  "  I  waked  last 
night  and  bemoaned  myself  because  I  had  not  thrown 
myself  into  this  deplorable  question  of  slavery,  which 
seems  to  want  nothing  so  much  as  a  few  assured 
voices.  But  then  in  hours  of  sanity  I  recover  myself, 
and  say,  '  God  must  govern  his  own  world,  and  knows 
his  way  out  of  this  pit  without  my  desertion  of  my 
post,  which  has  none  to  guard  it  but  me.  I  have  quite 
other  slaves  to  free  than  those  negroes,  to  wit,  im 
prisoned  spirits,  imprisoned  thoughts,  far  back  in  the 
brain  of  man,  far  retired  in  the  heaven  of  invention, 
and  which,  important  to  the  republic  of  man,  have  no 
watchman  or  lover  or  defender  but  me,'  "  thereby 
naively  leaving  to  God  the  lesser  task. 

But  he  wrongs  himself  in  his  own  journal,  for  he 
did  bestir  himself  and  he  did  speak,  and  he  did  not 
leave  the  black  men  to  God  while  he  looked  after  the 
white;  he  helped  God  all  he  could  in  his  own  peculiar, 
irresolute  way.  At  the  same  time  no  passage  from  the 
journals  throws  more  light  on  the  pure  soul  of  the 
great  dreamer.  He  was  opposed  to  slavery  and  he  felt 
for  the  negroes,  but  their  physical  degradation  did  not 
appeal  to  him  so  much  as  the  intellectual  degradation 
of  those  about  him.  To  him  it  was  a  loftier  mission  to 
release  the  minds  of  men  than  free  their  bodies.  With 
the  naive  and  at  the  same  time  superb  egoism  which 
is  characteristic  of  great  souls,  he  consoles  himself 
with  the  thought  that  God  can  probably  take  care 
of  the  slavery  question  without  troubling  him ;  he 


Lexington  and  Concord  197 

will  stick  to  his  post  and  look  after  more  important 
matters. 

What  a  treat  it  must  have  been  to  those  assembled 
in  the  Follen  house  to  hear  week  after  week  the  very 
noblest  considerations  and  suggestions  concerning  life 
poured  forth  in  tones  so  musical,  so  penetrating,  that 
to-day  they  ring  in  the  ears  of  those  who  had  the  great 
good  fortune  to  hear.  There  was  probably  very  little 
said  about  death.  Emerson  never  pretended  to  a  vision 
beyond  the  grave.  In  his  essay  on  "  Immortality"  he 
says,  "  Sixty  years  ago,  the  books  read,  the  services 
and  prayers  heard,  the  habits  of  thought  of  religious 
persons,  were  all  directed  on  death.  All  were  under 
the  shadow  of  Calvinism  and  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
purgatory,  and  death  was  dreadful.  The  emphasis  of 
all  the  good  books  given  to  young  people  was  on  death. 
We  were  all  taught  that  we  were  born  to  die ;  and 
over  that,  all  the  terrors  that  theology  could  gather 
from  savage  nations  were  added  to  increase  the  gloom. 
A  great  change  has  occurred.  Death  is  seen  as  a  natu 
ral  event,  and  is  met  with  firmness.  A  wise  man  in 
our  time  caused  to  be  written  on  his  tomb,  '  Think  on 
Living.'  That  inscription  describes  a  progress  in 
opinion.  Cease  from  this  antedating  of  your  experi 
ence.  Sufficient  to  to-day  are  the  duties  of  to-day. 
Don't  waste  life  in  doubts  and  fears ;  spend  yourself 
on  the  work  before  you,  well  assured  that  the  right 
performance  of  the  hour's  duties  will  be  the  best  prep 
aration  for  the  hours  or  ages  that  follow  it." 

Such  was  the  burden  of  Emerson's  message :  make 
the  very  best  of  life ;  let  not  the  present  be  palsied  by 
fears  for  the  future.  A  healthy,  sane  message,  a  loud, 


198  On  an   Automobile 

clear  voice  in  the  wilderness  of  doubt  and  fears,  the 
very  loudest  and  clearest  voice  in  matters  spiritual  and 
intellectual  which  America  has  yet  produced. 

A  service  in  It  was  during  the  days  of  his  service  in  East  Lex 

ington  that  he  went  to  Providence  to  deliver  a  course 
of  lectures ;  while  there  he  was  invited  to  conduct 
the  services  in  the  Second  (Unitarian)  Church.  The 
pastor  afterwards  said,  "  He  selected  from  Green 
wood's  collection  hymns  of  a  purely  meditative  char 
acter,  without  any  distinctively  Christian  expression. 
For  the  Scripture  lesson  he  read  a  fine  passage  from 
Ecclesiasticus,  from  which  he  also  took  his  text.  The 
sermon  was  precisely  like  one  of  his  lectures  in  style ; 
the  prayers,  or  what  took  their  place,  were  wholly 
without  supplication,  confession,  or  praise,  but  only 
sweet  meditations  on  nature,  beauty,  order,  goodness, 
love.  After  returning  home  I  found  Emerson  with  his 
head  bowed  on  his  hands,  which  were  resting  on  his 
knees.  He  looked  up  to  me  and  said,  '  Now,  tell  me 
honestly,  plainly,  just  what  you  think  of  that  service/ 
I  replied  that  before  he  was  half  through  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  that  it  was  the  last  time  he  should  have 
that  pulpit.  '  You  are  right/  he  rejoined,  'and  I  thank 
you.  On  my  part,  before  I  was  half  through,  I  felt 
out  of  place.  The  doubt  is  solved.'  ' 

He  dwelt  with  time  and  eternity  on  a  footing  of 
familiar  equality.  He  did  not  shrink  or  cringe.  His 
prayers  were  sweet  meditations  and  his  sermon  a  lect 
ure.  He  was  the  apostle  of  beauty,  goodness,  and 
truth. 


Lexington   and   Concord  199 

Lexington  Road  from  East  Lexington  to  the  Centre   Lexington 
is  a  succession  of  historic  spots  marked  by  stones  and 
tablets. 

The  old  home  of  Harrington,  the  last  survivor  of 
the  battle  of  Lexington,  still  stands  close  to  the  road 
side,  shaded  by  a  row  of  fine  big  trees.  Harrington 
died  in  1854  at  the  great  age  of  ninety-eight;  he  was 
a  rifer-boy  in  Captain  Parker's  company.  In  the  early 
morning  on  the  day  of  the  fight  his  mother  rapped  on 
his  bedroom  door,  calling,  "  Jonathan,  Jonathan,  get 
up ;  the  British  are  coming,  and  something  must  be 
done."  He  got  up  and  did  his  part  with  the  others. 
Men  still  living  recall  the  old  man  ;  they  heard  the  story 
of  that  memorable  day  from  the  lips  of  one  who 
participated  therein. 

At  the  corner  of  Maple  Street  there  is  an  elm  planted  Monroe  raven, 
in  1740.  On  a  little  knoll  at  the  left  is  the  Monroe 
Tavern.  The  square,  two-storied  frame  structure 
which  remains  is  the  older  portion  of  the  inn  as  it 
was  in  those  days.  It  was  the  head-quarters  of  Lord 
Percy;  and  it  is  said  that  an  inoffensive  old  man  who 
served  the  soldiers  with  liquor  in  the  small  bar-room 
was,  killed  when  he  tried  to  get  away  by  a  rear  door. 
When  the  soldiers  left  they  sacked  the  house,  piled  up 
the  furniture  and  set  fire  to  it.  Washington  dined  in 
the  dining-room  in  the  second  story,  November  5,  1789. 
The  house  was  built  in  1695,  and  is  still  owned  by  a 
direct  descendant  of  the  first  William  Monroe. 

Not  far  from  the  tavern  and  on  the  same  side  of  the 
street  is  a  house  where  a  wounded  soldier  was  cared 


2oo  On   an   Automobile 

for  by  a  Mrs.  Sanderson,  who  lived  to  be  one  hundred 
and  four  years  old. 

Near  the  intersection  of  Woburn  Street  is  a  crude 
stone  cannon  which  marks  the  place  where  Lord  Percy 
planted  a  field  pine  pointing  in  the  direction  of  the 
Green  to  check  the  advancing  patriots  and  cover  the 
retreat  of  the  Regulars. 

The  common  On  the  triangular  "  Common,"  in  the  very  heart  of 
the  village,  a  flat-faced  boulder  marks  the  line  where 
the  minute-men  under  Captain  Parker  were  formed  to 
receive  the  Regulars.  "  Stand  your  ground ;  don't 
fire  unless  fired  upon ;  but  if  they  mean  to  have  a  war, 
let  it  begin  here''  was  Parker's  command  to  his  men, 
and  it  was  there  the  war  did  begin.  The  small  band 
of  patriots  were  not  yet  in  line  when  the  red-coats 
appeared  at  the  east  end  of  the  meeting-house,  coming 
on  the  double-quick.  Riding  ahead,  a  British  officer 
called  out,  "  Disperse,  you  rebels  !  Villains,  disperse  !" 
but  the  little  band  of  rebels  stood  their  ground  until 
a  fatal  volley  killed  eight  and  wounded  ten.  Only 
two  of  the  British  were  wounded. 

The  victors  remained  in  possession  of  the  Green, 
fired  a  volley,  and  gave  three  loud  cheers  to  celebrate 
a  victory  that  in  the  end  was  to  cost  King  George  his 
fairest  colonies. 

The  soldiers'  monument  that  stands  on  the  Green 
was  erected  in  1799.  In  1835,  in  the  presence  of 
Daniel  Webster,  Joseph  Story,  Josiah  Quincy,  and  a 
vast  audience,  Edward  Everett  delivered  an  oration, 
and  the  bodies  of  those  who  fell  in  the  battle  were 
removed  from  the  old  cemetery  to  a  vault  in  the  rear 


Lexington  and   Concord  201 

of  the  shaft,  where  they  now  rest.  The  weather-beaten 
stone  is  over-grown  with  a  protecting  mantle  of  ivy, 
which  threatens  to  drop  like  a  veil  over  the  long  in 
scription.  Here,  for  more  than  a  century,  the  village 
has  received  distinguished  visitors, — Lafayette  in 
1824,  Kossuth  in  1851,  and  famous  men  of  later 
days. 

The  Buckman  Tavern,  where  the  patriots  assembled,    The  Bu 
built  in  1690,  still  stands  with  its  marks  of  bullets  and 
Hood  of  old  associations. 

These  ancient  hostelries — Monroe's,  Buckman 's, 
Wright's  in  Concord,  and  the  Wayside  Inn — are  by 
no  means  the  least  interesting  features  of  this  historic 
section.  An  old  tavern  is  as  pathetic  as  an  old  hat : 
it  is  redolent  of  former  owners  and  guests,  each  room 
reeks  with  confused  personalities,  every  latch  is  elec 
tric  from  many  hands,  every  wall  echoes  a  thousand 
voices;  at  dusk  of  day  the  clink  of  glasses  and  the 
resounding  toast  may  still  be  heard  in  the  deserted 
banquet-hall ;  at  night  a  ghostly  light  illumines  the 
vacant  ballroom,  and  the  rustle  of  silks  and  satins,  the 
sound  of  merry  laughter,  and  the  faint  far-off  strains 
of  music  fall  upon  the  ear. 

We  did  not  visit  the  Clarke  house  where  Paul  Re 
vere  roused  Adams  and  Hancock ;  we  saw  it  from  the 
road.  Originally,  and  until  1896,  the  house  stood  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street ;  the  owner  was  about 
to  demolish  it  to  subdivide  the  land,  when  the  His 
torical  Society  intervened  and  purchased  it. 

Neither  did  we  enter  the  old  burying-ground  on 
Elm  Street.  The  automobile  is  no  respecter  of  persons 


2O2  On  an   Automobile 

or  places;  it  pants  with  impatience  if  brought  to  a 
stand  for  so  much  as  a  moment  before  a  house  or 
monument  of  interest,  and  somehow  the  throbbing, 
puffing,  impatient  machine  gets  the  upper  hand  of 
those  who  are  supposed  to  control  it ;  we  are  hastened 
onward  in  spite  of  our  better  inclinations. 

Lexington  to  The  trolley  line  from  Lexington  to  Concord  is  by 
way  of  Bedford,  but  the  direct  road  over  the  hill  is  the 
one  the  British  followed.  It  is  nine  miles  by  Bedford 
and  the  Old  Bedford  Road,  and  but  six  miles  direct. 

A  fatal  duel  A  short  distance  out  of  Lexington  a  tablet  marks 

an  old  well ;  the  inscription  reads,  "  At  this  well,  April 
19,  1775,  James  Hay  ward,  of  Acton,  met  a  British 
soldier,  who,  raising  his  gun,  said,  '  You  are  a  dead 
man.'  '  And  so  are  you,'  replied  Hayward.  Both 
fired.  The  soldier  was  instantly  killed  and  Hayward 
mortally  wounded." 

Grim  meeting  of  two  thirsty  souls ;  they  sought 
water  and  found  blood ;  they  wooed  life  and  won  death. 
War  is  epitomized  in  the  exclamations,  "  You  are  a 
dead  man,"  "  And  so  are  you."  Further  debate  would 
end  the  strife;  the  one  query,  "Why?"  would  bring 
each  musket  to  a  rest.  Poor  unknown  Britisher,  exiled 
from  home,  what  did  he  know  about  the  merits  of  the 
controversy?  What  did  he  care?  It  was  his  business 
to  shoot,  and  be  shot.  He  fulfilled  most  completely  in 
the  same  moment  the  double  mission  of  the  soldier,  to 
kill  and  be  killed.  Those  who  do  the  fighting  never 
do  know  very  much  about  what  they  are  fighting  for, 
— if  thev  did,  most  of  them  would  not  fight  at  all.  In 


Lexington  and   Concord  203 

these  days  of  common  schools  and  newspapers  it  be 
comes  ever  more  and  more  difficult  to  recruit  armies 
with  men  who  neither  know  nor  think;  the  common 
soldier  is  beginning  to  have  opinions ;  by  and  by  he 
will  not  fight  unless  convinced  he  is  right, — then  there 
will  be  fewer  wars. 


Over    the    road    we    were    following    the    British    The 

.  minute-men 

marched  in  order  and  retreated  in  disorder.  The  un 
disciplined  minute-men  were  not  very  good  at  standing 
up  in  an  open  square  and  awaiting  the  onslaught  of  a 
company  of  regulars, — it  takes  regulars  to  meet  regu 
lars  out  in  the  open ;  but  behind  trees  and  fences,  from 
breast-works  and  scattered  points  of  advantage,  each 
minute-man  was  a  whole  army  in  himself,  and  thn 
regulars  had  a  hard  time  of  it  on  their  retreat, — the 
trees  and  stones  which  a  few  hours  before  had  been 
just  trees  and  stones,  became  miniature  fortresses. 


The  old  vineyard,  where  in  1855  Ephraim  Bull  pro-    The 
duced  the  now  well  known  Concord  grape  by  using  gia  e 
the   native   wild   grape   in   a   cross   with   a   cultivated 
variety,  is  at  the  outskirts  of  Concord. 

A  little  farther  on  is  "  The  Wayside,"  so  named  by   "  The. 
Hawthorne,  who  purchased  the  place  from  Alcott  in    H'a-ysj(ie 
1852,  lived  there  until  his  appointment  as  Consul  at 
Liverpool  in  1853,  and  again  on  his  return  from  Eng 
land  in  1860,  until  he  died  in  1864.     But  "  The  Way 
side"  was  not  Hawthorne's  first  Concord  home.     He 
came  there  with  his  bride  in  1842  and  lived  four  years 
in  the  Old  Manse. 


204  On  an   Automobile 

old  Manse  There  has  never  been  written  but  one  adequate  de 
scription  of  this  venerable  dwelling,  and  that  by  Haw 
thorne  himself  in  "  Mosses  from  an  Old  Manse."  To 
most  readers  the  description  seems  part  and  parcel  of 
the  fanciful  tales  that  follow  ;  no  more  real  than  the 
"  House  of  the  Seven  Gables/'  We  of  the  outside 
world  who  know  our  Concord  only  by  hearsay  cannot 
realize  that  "  The  Wayside"  and  the  "  Old  Manse" 
and  ''  Sleepy  Hollow"  are  verities,  —  verities  which  the 
plodding  language  of  prose  tails  to  compass,  unless  the 
pen  is  wielded  by  a  master  hand. 


zvindow-pavt  Q^  ]n  a  window-pane  of  one  of  the  rooms  were 
left  these  inscriptions  :  "  Nat'l  Hawthorne.  This  is 
his  study,  1843."  "''  Inscribed  by  my  husband  at  sun 
set,  April  3d,  1843,  m  the  gold  light,  S.  A.  H.  Man's 
accidents  are  God's  purposes.  Sophia  A.  Hawthorne, 
1843." 

Dear,  devoted  bride,  after  more  than  fifty  years  your 
bright,  loving  letters  have  come  to  light,  and  through 
your  clear  vision  we  catch  unobstructed  glimpses  of 
men  and  things  of  those  days.  After  years  of  devo 
tion  to  your  husband  and  his  memory  it  was  your  lot 
to  die  and  be  buried  in  a  foreign  land,  while  he  lies 
lonely  in  "  Sleepy  Hollow." 

When  the  honeymoon  was  still  a  silver  crescent  in 
the  sky  she  wrote  a  friend,  "  I  hoped  I  should  see  you 
again  before  I  came  home  to  our  paradise.  I  intended 
to  give  you  a  concise  history  of  my  elysian  life.  Soon 
after  we  returned  my  dear  lord  began  to  write  in 
earnest,  and  then  commenced  my  leisure,  because,  till 
we  meet  at  dinner,  I  do  not  see  him.  .  .  .  We  were 


Lexington  and  Concord  205 

interrupted  by  no  one,  except  a  short  call  now  and  then 
from  Elizabeth  Hoar,  who  can  hardly  be  called  an 
earthly  inhabitant ;  and  Mr.  Emerson,  whose  face 
pictured  the  promised  land  (which  we  were  then  en 
joying),  and  intruded  no  more  than  a  sunset  or  a  rich 
warble  from  a  bird. 

"  One  evening,  two  days  after  our  arrival  at  the  Old 
Manse,  George  Milliard  and  Henry  Cleveland  appeared 
for  fifteen  minutes  on  their  way  to  Niagara  Falls,  and 
were  thrown  into  raptures  by  the  embowering  flowers 
and  the  dear  old  house  they  adorned,  and  the  pictures 
of  Holy  Mothers  mild  on  the  walls,  and  Mr.  Haw 
thorne's  study,  and  the  noble  avenue.  We  forgive  them 
for  their  appearance  here,  because  they  were  gone  as 
soon  as  they  had  come,  and  we  felt  very  hospitable.  We 
wandered  down  to  our  sweet,  sleepy  river,  and  it  was 
so  silent  all  around  us  and  so  solitary,  that  we  seemed 
the  only  persons  living.  We  sat  beneath  our  stately 
trees,  and  felt  as  if  we  Avere  the  rightful  inheritors  of 
the  old  abbey,  which  had  descended  to  us  from  a  long 
line.  The  tree-tops  waved  a  majestic  welcome,  and 
rustled  their  thousand  leaves  like  brooks  over  our 
heads.  But  the  bloom  and  fragrance  of  nature  had  be 
come  secondary  to  us,  though  we  were  lovers  of  it. 
In  my  husband's  face  and  eyes  I  saw  a  fairer  world, 
of  which  the  other  was  a  faint  copy." 

Nearly  two  weeks  later  she  continues  in  the  same 
letter,  "  Sweet,  dear  Mary,  nearly  a  fortnight  has 
passed  since  I  wrote  the  above.  I  really  believe  I  will 
finish  my  letter  to-day,  though  I  do  not  promise.  That 
magician  upstairs  is  very  potent !  In  the  afternoon 
and  evening  I  sit  in  the  study  with  him.  It  is  the 


206  On  an  Automobile 

pleasantest  niche  in  our  temple.  We  watch  the  sun, 
together,  descending  in  purple  and  gold,  in  every 
variety  of  magnificence,  over  the  river.  Lately,  we  go 
on  the  river,  which  is  now  frozen ;  my  lord  to  skate, 
and  I  to  run  and  slide,  during  the  dolphin  death  of 
day.  I  consider  my  husband  a  rare  sight,  gliding  over 
the  icy  stream.  For,  wrapped  in  his  cloak,  he  looks 
very  graceful ;  impetuously  darting  from  me  in  long, 
sweeping  curves,  and  returning  again — again  to  shoot 
away.  Our  meadow  at  the  bottom  of  the  orchard  is 
like  a  small  frozen  sea  now ;  and  that  is  the  present 
scene  of  our  heroic  games.  Sometimes,  in  the  splendor 
of  the  dying  light,  we  seem  sporting  upon  transparent 
gold,  so  prismatic  becomes  the  ice ;  and  the  snow  takes 
opaline  hues  from  the  gems  that  float  above  as  clouds. 
It  is  eminently  the  hour  to  see  objects,  just  after  the 
sun  has  disappeared.  Oh,  such  oxygen  as  we  inhale ! 
After  other  skaters  appear, — young  men  and  boys, — 
who  principally  interest  me  as  foils  to  my  husband, 
who,  in  the  presence  of  nature,  loses  all  shyness  and 
moves  regally  like  a  king.  One  afternoon  Mr.  Emer 
son  and  Mr.  Thoreau  went  with  him  down  the  river. 
Henry  Thoreau  is  an  experienced  skater,  and  was 
figuring  dithyrambic  dances  and  Bacchic  leaps  on  the 
ice, — very  remarkable,  but  very  ugly  methought.  Next 
him  followed  Mr.  Hawthorne,  who,  wrapped  in  his 
cloak,  moved  like  a  self -impelled  Greek  statue,  stately 
and  grave.  Mr.  Emerson  closed  the  line,  evidently 
too  weary  to  hold  himself  erect,  pitching  headforemost, 
half  lying  on  the  air.  He  came  in  to  rest  himself,  and 
said  to  me  that  Hawthorne  was  a  tiger,  a  bear,  a  lion, 
—in  short,  a  satyr,  and  there  was  no  tiring  him  out; 


Lexington  and  Concord  207 

and  he  might  be  the  death  of  a  man  like  himself.  And 
then,  turning  upon  me  that  kindling  smile  for  which 
he  is  so  memorable,  he  added,  '  Mr.  Hawthorne  is 
such  an  Ajax,  who  can  cope  with  him !' ' 

Of  all  the  pages,  ay,  of  all  the  books,  that  have  been  with  poetic 
printed  concerning  Emerson,  Hawthorne,  and  Tho- 
reau,  there  is  not  one  which  more  vividly  and  accu 
rately  set  the  men  before  us  and  describe  their  essential 
characteristics  than  the  casual  lines  of  this  old  letter: 
— Thoreau,  the  devotee  of  nature,  "  figuring  dithy- 
rambic  dances  and  Bacchic  leaps  on  the  ice,"  joyous 
in  the  presence  of  his  god ;  the  mystic  Hawthorne, 
wrapped  in  his  sombre  cloak,  "  moved  like  a  self- 
impelled  Greek  statue,  stately  and  grave," — with 
magic  force  these  words  throw  upon  the  screen  of 
the  imagination  the  figure  of  the  creator  of  Hester 
Prynnc  and  Arthur  Dimmesdale ;  while  Emerson  is 
drawn  with  the  inspiration  of  a  poet,  "  evidently  too 
weary  to  hold  himself  erect,  pitching  headforemost, 
half  lying  on  the  air ;"  "  half  lying  on  the  air," — the 
phrase  rings  in  the  ear,  lingers  in  the  memory,  at 
taches  itself  to  Emerson,  and  fits  like  a  garment  of 
soft  and  yielding  texture. 

The  letter  concludes  as  follows :  "  After  the  first 
snow-storm,  before  it  was  so  deep,  we  walked  in  the 
woods,  very  beautiful  in  winter,  and  found  slides  in 
Sleepy  Hollow,  where  we  became  children,  and  en 
joyed  ourselves  as  of  old, — only  more,  a  great  deal. 
Sometimes  it  is  before  breakfast  that  Mr.  Hawthorne 
goes  to  skate  upon  the  meadow.  Yesterday,  before  he 
went  out,  he  said  it  was  very  cloudy  and  gloomy,  and 


208  On  an  Automobile 

lie  thought  it  would  storm.  In  half  an  hour,  oh, 
wonder !  what  a  scene !  Instead  of  a  black  sky,  the 
rising  sun,  not  yet  above  the  hill,  had  changed  the 
firmament  into  a  vast  rose !  On  every  side,  east,  west, 
north,  and  south,  every  point  blushed  roses.  I  ran  to 
the  study  and  the  meadow  sea  also  was  a  rose,  the 
reflection  of  that  above.  And  there  was  my  husband, 
careering  about,  glorified  by  the  light.  Such  is  Para 
dise. 

"  In  the  evening  we  are  gathered  together  beneath 
our  luminous  star  in  the  study,  for  we  have  a  large 
hanging  astral  lamp,  which  beautifully  illumines  the 
room,  with  its  walls  of  pale  yellow  paper,  its  Holy 
Mother  over  the  fireplace,  and  pleasant  books,  and  its 
pretty  bronze  vase  on  one  of  the  secretaries,  filled  with 
ferns.  Except  once,  Mr.  Emerson,  no  one  hunts  us 
out  in  the  evening.  Then  Mr.  Hawthorne  reads  to  me. 
At  present  we  can  only  get  along  with  the  old  English 
writers,  and  we  find  that  they  are  the  hive  from  which 
all  modern  honey  is  stolen.  They  are  thick-set  with 
thought,  instead  of  one  thought  serving  for  a  whole 
book.  Shakespeare  is  pre-eminent;  Spencer  is  music. 
We  dare  to  dislike  Milton  when  he  goes  to  heaven. 
We  do  not  recognize  God  in  his  picture  of  Him.  There 
is  something  so  penetrating  and  clear  in  Mr.  Haw 
thorne's  intellect,  that  now  I  am  acquainted  with  it, 
merely  thinking  of  him  as  I  read  winnows  the  chaff 
from  the  wheat  at  once.  And  when  he  reads  to  me, 
it  is  the  acutest  criticism.  Such  a  voice,  too, — such 
sweet  thunder !  Whatever  is  not  worth  much  shows 
sadly,  coming  through  such  a  medium,  fit  only  for 
noblest  ideas.  From  reading  his  books  you  can  have 


Lexington  and  Concord  209 

some  idea  of  what  it  is  to  dwell  with  Mr.  Hawthorne. 
But  only  a  shadow  of  him  is  found  in  his  books.  The 
half  is  not  told  there." 


Just  a  letter,  the  outpouring  of  a  loving  young  heart, 
written  with  no  thought  of  print  and  strange  eye, 
slumbering  for  more  than  fifty  years  to  come  to  light 
at  last ; — just  one  of  many,  all  of  them  well  worth 
reading. 

The  three  great  men  of  Concord  were  happy  in  their 
wives.  Mrs.  Hawthorne  and  Mrs.  Alcott  were  not 
only  great  wives  and  mothers,  but  they  could  express 
their  prayers,  meditations,  fancies,  and  emotions  in 
clear  and  exquisite  English. 

It  was  after  the  prosperous  days  of  the  Liverpool 
Consulate  that  Hawthorne  returned  to  Concord  to 
spend  the  remainder  of  his  all  too  short  life. 

He  made  many  changes  in  "  The  Wayside"  and  sur 
rounding  grounds.  He  enlarged  the  house  and  added 
the  striking  but  quite  unpicturesque  tower  which  rises 
from  the  centre  of  the  main  part ;  here  he  had  his  study 
and  point  of  observation ;  he  could  see  the  unwelcome 
visitor  while  yet  a  far  way  off,  or  contemplate  the  lazy 
travel  of  a  summer's  day. 

Just  beyond  is  "  Orchard  House,"  into  which  the 
Alcotts  moved  in  October,  1858. 

A  philosopher  may  not  be  a  good  neighbor,  and 
Alcott  lived  just  a  little  too  near  Hawthorne.  "  It 
was  never  so  well  understood  at  '  The  Wayside'  that 

14 


210  On  an  Automobile 

its  owner  had  retiring  habits  as  when  Alcott  was  re 
ported  to  be  approaching  along  Larch  Path,  which 
stretched  in  feathery  bowers  between  our  house  and 
his.  Yet  I  was  not  aware  that  the  seer  failed  at  any 
hour  to  gain  admittance, — one  cause,  perhaps,  of  the 
awe  in  which  his  visits  were  held.  I  remember  that 
my  observation  was  attracted  to  him  curiously  from 
the  fact  that  my  mother's  eyes  changed  to  a  darker 
gray  at  his  advents,  as  they  did  only  when  she  was 
silently  sacrificing  herself.  I  clearly  understood  that 
Mr.  Alcott  was  admirable,  but  he  sometimes  brought 
manuscript  poetry  with  him,  the  dear  child  of  his  own 
Muse.  .  .  .  There  was  one  particularly  long  poem 
which  he  had  read  aloud  to  my  mother  and  father ; 
a  seemingly  harmless  thing,  from  which  they  never 
recovered." 

AS  others  see  ns  The  appreciation  the  great  men  of  Concord  had  of 
one  another  is  interesting  to  the  outside  world.  Great 
souls  are  seldom  congenial, — popular  impression  to  the 
contrary  notwithstanding.  Minds  of  a  feather  flock- 
together  ;  but  minds  of  gold  are  apt  to  remain  apart, 
each  sufficient  unto  itself.  It  is  in  sports,  pastimes, 
business,  politics,  that  men  congregate  with  facility; 
in  literary  and  intellectual  pursuits  the  leaders  are  anti 
pathetic  in  proportion  to  their  true  greatness.  Now 
and  then  two,  and  more  rarely  three,  are  united  by 
bonds  of  quick  understanding  and  sympathy,  but  men 
of  profound  convictions  attract  followers  and  repel 
companions. 

Emerson's  was  the  most  catholic  spirit ;  he  under 
stood  his  neighbors  better  than  they  understood  one 
another ;  his  vision  was  very  clear.  For  a  man  who 


Lexington  and   Concord  211 

mingled  so  little  with  the  world,  who  spent  so  much 
of  his  life  in  contemplation — in  communing  with  his 
inner  self — Emerson  was  very  sane  indeed;  his  idio 
syncrasies  did  not  prevent  his  judging  men  and  things 
quite  correctly. 

Hawthorne  and  Emerson  saw  comparatively  little  of 
each  other ;  these  two  great  souls  respected  the  inde 
pendence  of  each  other  too  much  to  intrude.  "  Mr. 
Hawthorne  once  broke  through  his  hermit  usage,  and 
honored  Miss  Ellen  Emerson,  the  friend  of  his 
daughter  Una,  with  a  formal  call  on  a  Sunday 
evening.  It  was  the  only  time,  I  think,  that  he  ever 
came  to  the  house  except  when  persuaded  to  come  in 
for  a  few  moments  on  the  rare  occasions  when  he 
walked  with  my  father.  On  this  occasion  he  did  not 
ask  for  either  Mr.  or  Mrs.  Emerson,  but  announced 
that  his  call  was  upon  Miss  Ellen.  Unfortunately,  she 
had  gone  to  bed,  but  he  remained  for  a  time  talking 
with  my  sister  Edith  and  me,  the  school-mates  of  his 
children.  To  cover  his  shyness  he  took  up  a  stereo 
scope  on  the  centre-table  and  began  to  look  at  the 
pictures.  After  looking  at  them  for  a  time  he  asked 
where  those  views  were  taken.  We  told  him  they 
were  pictures  of  the  Concord  Court  and  Town  Houses, 
the  Common  and  the  Mill-dam ;  on  hearing  which  he 
expressed  some  surprise  and  interest,  but  evidently  was 
as  unfamiliar  with  the  centre  of  the  village  where  he 
had  lived  for  years  as  a  deer  or  a  wood-thrush  would 
be.  He  walked  through  it  often  on  his  way  to  the 
cars,  but  was  too  shy  or  too  rapt  to  know  what  was 
there." 


2 1  2  On  an  Automobile 

Emerson  on.  Emerson  liked  Hawthorne  better  than  his  books, — 

Hawthorne  .  . 

the  latter  were  too  weird,  uncanny,  and  inconclusive. 
In  1838  he  noted  in  his  journal,  "  Elizabeth  Peabody 
brought  me  yesterday  Hawthorne's  '  Footprints  on 
the  Seashore'  to  read.  I  complained  there  was  no 
inside  to  it.  Alcott  and  he  together  would  make  a 
man." 

Later,  when  Hawthorne  came  to  live  in  Concord, 
Emerson  did  his  best  to  get  better  acquainted ;  but  it 
was  of  little  use ;  they  had  too  little  in  common.  Both 
men  were  great  walkers,  and  yet  they  seldom  walked 
together.  They  went  to  Harvard  to  see  the  Shakers, 
and  Emerson  recorded  it  as  a  "  satisfactory  tramp ;  we 
had  good  talk  on  the  way." 

After  Hawthorne's  death,  Emerson  made  the  follow 
ing  entry  in  his  journal :  "I  thought  him  a  greater 
man  than  any  of  his  works  betray ;  there  was  still  a 
great  deal  of  work  in  him,  and  he  might  one  day  show 
a  purer  power.  ...  It  would  have  been  a  happiness, 
doubtless,  to  both  of  us,  to  come  into  habits  of  unre 
served  intercourse.  It  was  easy  to  talk  with  him ;  there 
were  n.o  barriers ;  only  he  said  so  little  that  I  talked 
too  much,  and  stopped  only  because,  as  he  gave  no 
indication,  I  feared  to  exceed.  He  showed  no  egotism 
or  self-assertion  ;  rather  a  humility,  and  at  one  time 
a  fear  that  he  had  written  himself  out.  ...  I  do  not 
think  any  of  his  books  worthy  his  genius.  I  admired 
the  man,  who  was  simple,  amiable,  truth-loving,  and 
frank  in  conversation,  but  I  never  read  his  books  with 
pleasure ;  they  are  too  young." 

Emerson  was  greedy  for  ideas,  and  the  pure,  limpid 
literature  of  Hawthorne  did  not  satisfy  him. 


Lexington  and  Concord  2 1  3 

Hawthorne's  estimate  of  Emerson  was  far  more  just   Hawthorne  on 

Emerson 

and  penetrating;  he  described  him  very  correctly  as 
"  a  great  original  thinker''  whose  "  mind  acted  upon 
other  minds  of  a  certain  constitution  with  wonderful 
magnetism,  and  drew  many  men  upon  long  pilgrim 
ages  to  speak  with  him  face  to  face.  Young  vision 
aries — to  whom  just  so  much  of  insight  had  been  im 
parted  as  to  make  life  all  a  labyrinth  around  them — 
came  to  seek  the  clew  that  should  guide  them  out  of 
their  self-involved  bewilderment.  Gray-headed  theo 
rists — whose  systems,  at  first  air,  had  finally  im 
prisoned  them  in  an  iron  framework — travelled  pain 
fully  to  his  door,  not  to  ask  deliverance,  but  to  invite 
the  free  spirit  into  their  own  thraldom.  People  that 
had  lighted  on  a  new  thought,  or  a  thought  that  they 
fancied  new,  came  to  Emerson,  as  the  finder  of  a  glit 
tering  gem  hastens  to  a  lapidary  to  ascertain  its  quality 
and  value.  Uncertain,  troubled,  earnest  wanderers 
through  the  midnight  of  the  moral  world  beheld  his 
intellectual  face  as  a  beacon  burning  on  a  hill-top,  and, 
climbing  the  difficult  ascent,  looked  forth  into  the 
surrounding  obscurity  more  hopefully  than  hitherto. 
....  For  myself,  there  had  been  epochs  in  my  life 
when  I,  too,  might  have  asked  of  this  prophet  the 
master  word  that  should  solve  me  the  riddle  of  the 
universe,  but,  now,  being  happy,  I  feel  as  if  there  were 
no  question  to  be  put,  and  therefore  admired  Emerson 
as  a  poet  of  deep  and  austere  beauty,  but  sought  noth 
ing  from  him  as  a  philosopher.  It  was  good  neverthe 
less  to  meet  him  in  the  wood-paths,  .or  sometimes  in 
our  avenue,  with  that  pure,  intellectual  gleam  diffused 
about  his  presence  like  the  garment  of  a  shining  one; 


214 


On  an  Automobile 


Emerson  on 
Alcott 


and  he,  so  quiet,  so  simple,  so  without  pretension,  en 
countering  each  man  alive  as  if  expecting  to  receive 
more  than  he  could  impart." 

It  was  fortunate  for  Hawthorne,  doubly  fortunate 
for  us  who  read  him,  that  he  could  withstand  the  in 
fluence  of  Emerson,  and  go  on  writing  in  his  own 
way;  his  dreams  and  fancies  were  undisturbed  by  the 
clear  vision  which  sought  so  earnestly  to  distract  him 
from  his  realm  of  the  imagination. 

On  first  impressions  Emerson  rated  Alcott  very  high. 
"  He  has  more  of  the  godlike  than  any  man  I  have 
ever  seen,  and  his  presence  rebukes,  and  threatens, 
and  raises.  He  is  a  teacher."  "  Yesterday  Alcott  left 
us  after  a  three  days'  visit.  The  most  extraordinary 
man,  and  the  highest  genius  of  his  time."  This  was 
in  1835.  Seven  years  later  Emerson  records  this  im 
pression.  "  He  looks  at  everything  in  larger  angles 
than  any  other,  and,  by  good  right,  should  be  the  great 
est  man.  But  here  comes  in  another  trait ;  it  is  found, 
though  his  angles  are  of  so  generous  contents,  the  lines 
do  not  meet;  the  apex  is  not  quite  defined.  We  must 
allow  for  the  refraction  of  the  lens,  but  it  is  the  best 
instrument  I  have  ever  met  with." 


Alcott  on 
Emerson 


Alcott  visited  Concord  first  in  October,  1835,  and 
found  that  he  and  Emerson  had  many  things  in  com 
mon,  but  he  entered  in  his  diary,  "  Mr.  Emerson's  fine 
literary  taste  is  sometimes  in  the  way  of  a  clear  and 
hearty  acceptance  of  the  spiritual."  Again,  he  naively 
congratulates  himself  that  he  has  found  a  man  who 
could  appreciate  his  theories.  "  Emerson  sees  me, 


Lexington  and  Concord  2 1  5 

knows  me,  and,  more  than  all  others,  helps  me, — not 
by  noisy  praise,  not  by  low  appeals  to  interest  and 
passion,  but  by  turning  the  eye  of  others  to  my  stand 
in  reason  and  the  nature  of  things.  Only  men  of  like 
vision  can  apprehend  and  counsel  each  other." 

With  the  exception  of  Hawthorne,  there  was  among 
the  men  of  Concord  a  tendency  to  over-estimate  one 
another.  For  the  most  part,  they  took  themselves  and 
each  other  very  seriously ;  even  Emerson's  subtle  sense 
of  humor  did  not  save  him  from  yielding  to  this  ten 
dency,  which  is  illustrated  in  the  following  page  from 
Hawthorne's  journal : 

"About  nine  o'clock  (Sunday)  Hilliard  and  I  set 
out  on  a  walk  to  Walden  Pond,  calling  by  the  way  at 
Mr.  Emerson's  to  obtain  his  guidance  or  directions. 
He,  from  a  scruple  of  his  eternal  conscience,  detained 
us  until  after  the  people  had  got  into  church,  and  then 
he  accompanied  us  in  his  own  illustrious  person.  We 
turned  aside  a  little  from  our  way  to  visit  Mr.  Hosmer, 
a  yeoman,  of  whose  homely  and  self-acquired  wisdom 
Mr.  Emerson  has  a  very  high  opinion."  "  He  had  a 
fine  flow  of  talk,  and  not  much  diffidence  about  his 
own  opinions.  ...  I  was  not  impressed  with  any  re 
markable  originality  in  his  views,  but  they  were  sen 
sible  and  characteristic.  Methought,  however,  the 
good  yeoman  was  not  quite  so  natural  as  he  may  have 
been  at  an  earlier  period.  The  simplicity  of  his  char 
acter  has  probably  suffered  by  his  detecting  the  im 
pression  he  makes  on  those  around  him.  There  is  a 
circle,  I  suppose,  who  look  up  to  him  as  an  oracle,  and 
so  he  inevitably  assumes  the  oracular  manner,  and 
speaks  as  if  truth  and  wisdom  were  attiring  themselves 


21 6  On  an  Automobile 

by  his  voice.  Mr.  Emerson  has  risked  the  doing  him 
much  mischief  by  putting  him  in  print, — a  trial  few 
persons  can  sustain  without  losing  their  unconscious 
ness.  But,  after  all,  a  man  gifted  with  thought  and 
expression,  whatever  his  rank  in  life  and  his  mode  of 
uttering  himself,  whether  by  pen  or  tongue,  cannot  be 
expected  to  go  through  the  world  without  finding  him 
self  out ;  and,  as  all  such  discoveries  are  partial  and 
imperfect,  they  do  more  harm  than  good  to  the  char 
acter.  Mr.  Hosmer  is  more  natural  than  ninety-nine 
men  out  of  a  hundred,  and  is  certainly  a  man  of  in 
tellectual  and  moral  substance.  It  would  be  amusing 
to  draw  a  parallel  betweeen  him  and  his  admirer, — 
Mr.  Emerson,  the  mystic,  stretching  his  hand  out  of 
cloudland  in  vain  search  for  something  real ;  and  the 
man  of  sturdy  sense,  all  whose  ideas  seem  to  be  dug 
out  of  his  mind,  hard  and  substantial,  as  he  digs  his 
potatoes,  carrots,  beets,  and  turnips  out  of  the  earth. 
Mr.  Emerson  is  a  great  searcher  for  facts,  but  they 
seem  to  melt  away  and  become  unsubstantial  in  his 
grasp." 

Genius  They   took   that   extraordinary   creature,    Margaret 

Fuller,  seriously,  and  they  took  a  vast  deal  of  poor 
poetry  seriously.  Because  a  few  could  write,  nearly 
every  one  in  the  village  seemed  to  think  he  or  she 
could  write,  and  write  they  did  to  the  extent  of  a  small 
library  most  religiously  shelved  and  worshipped  in  its 
own  compartment  in  the  town  library. 

Genius  is  egotism;  the  superb  confidence  of  these 
men,  each  in  the  sanctity  of  his  own  mission,  in  the 
plenitude  of  his  own  powers,  in  the  inspiration  of  his 


Lexington  and   Concord  217 

own  message,  made  them  what  they  were.  The  last 
word  was  Alcott's  because  he  outlived  them  all,  and  his 
last  word  was  that,  great  as  were  those  who  had  taken 
their  departure,  the  greatest  of  them  all  had  fallen  just 
short  of  appreciating  him,  the  survivor.  A  man  pene 
trates  every  one's  disguise  but  his  own ;  we  deceive  no 
one  but  ourselves.  The  insane  are  often  singularly 
quick  to  penetrate  the  delusions  of  others ;  the  man 
who  calls  himself  George  Washington  ridicules  the 
claim  of  another  that  he  is  Julius  Caesar. 

Between  Hawthorne  and  Thoreau  there  was  little  in   Hawthorn 
common.     In  1860,  the  latter  speaks  .of  meeting  Haw-    Thoreau 
thorne  shortly  after  his  return  from  Europe,  and  says, 
"  He  is  as  simple  and  childlike  as  ever.'' 

Of  Thoreau,  Mrs.  Hawthorne  wrote  in  a  letter, 
"  This  evening  -Mr.  Thoreau  is  going  to  lecture,  and 
will  stay  with  us.  His  lecture  before  was  so  enchant 
ing;  such  a  revelation  of  nature  in  all  its  exquisite 
details  of  wood-thrushes,  squirrels,  sunshine,  mists  and 
shadows,  fresh  vernal  odors,  pine-tree  ocean  melodies, 
that  my  ear  rang  with  music,  and  I  seemed  to  have 
been  wandering  through  copse  and  dingle !  Mr. 
Thoreau  has  risen  above  all  his  arrogance  of  manner, 
and  is  as  gentle,  simple,  ruddy,  and  meek  as  all 
geniuses  should  be ;  and  now  his  great  blue  eyes  fairly 
outshine  and  put  into  shade  a  nose  which  I  thought 
must  make  him  uncomely  forever." 

In  his  own  journal  Hawthorne  said,  "  Mr.  Thoreau 
dined  with  us.  He  is  a  singular  character, — a  young 
man  with  much  of  wild,  original  nature  still  remaining 
in  him ;  and  so  far  as  he  is  sophisticated,  it  is  in  a  way 


21  8  On  an  Automobile 

and  method  of  his  own.  He  is  as  ugly  as  sin,  long- 
nosed,  queer-mouthed,  and  with  uncouth  and  some 
what  rustic,  though  courteous,  manners,  corresponding 
very  well  with  such  an  exterior.  But  his  ugliness  is 
of  an  honest  and  agreeable  fashion,  and  becomes  him 
much  better  than  beauty." 

Aicottand  Alcott  helped  build  the  hut  at  Walden,  and  he  and 

Emerson  spent  many  an  evening  there  in  conversation 
that  must  have  delighted  the  gods — in  so  far  as  they 
understood  it. 

Of  Alcott  and  their  winter  evenings,  Thoreau  has 
said,  "  One  of  the  last  of  the  philosophers.  Connecti 
cut  gave  him  to  the  world, — he  peddled  first  his  wares, 
afterwards,  as  he  declares,  his  brains ;  these  he  peddles 
still,  prompting  God  and  disgracing  man,  bearing  for 
fruit  his  brain  only,  like  the  nut  in  the  kernel.  .  .  . 
His  words  and  attitude  always  suppose  a  better  state 
of  things  than  other  men  are  acquainted  with,  and  he 
will  be  the  last  man  to  be  disappointed  as  the  ages 
revolve.  ...  A  true  friend  of  man,  almost  the  only 
friend  of  human  progress.  He  is  perhaps  the  sanest 
man  and  has  the  fewest  crotchets  of  any  I  chance  to 
know, — the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  to-morrow. 
....  Ah,  such  discourse  as  we  had,  hermit  and 
philosopher,  and  the  old  settler  I  have  spoken  of, — we 
three;  it  expanded  and  racked  my  little  home;" — to 
say  nothing  of  the  universe,  which  doubtless  felt  the 
strain. 

Referring  to  the  same  evening,  Alcott  said, — prob 
ably  after  a  chastening  discussion, — "  If  I  were  to 
proffer  my  earnest  prayer  to  the  gods  for  the  greatest 


Lexington  and  Concord  2 1 9 

of  all  human  privileges,  it  should  be  for  the  gift  of 
a  severely  candid  friend.  .  .  .  Intercourse  of  this  kind 
I  have  found  possible  with  my  friends  Emerson  and 
Thoreau ;  and  the  evenings  passed  in  their  society 
during  these  winter  months  have  realized  my  concep 
tion  of  what  friendship,  when  great  and  genuine,  owes 
to  and  takes  from  its  objects." 

Nearly  twenty  years  after  Thoreau 's  death,  Alcott, 
while  walking  towards  the  close  of  day,  said,  "  I 
always  think  of  Thoreau  when  I  look  at  a  sunset." 

Emerson  was  fourteen  years  older  than  Thoreau,  but  Emerson  and 
between  the  two  men  there  existed  through  life  pro 
found  sympathy  and  affection.  Emerson  watched  him 
develop  as  a  young  man,  and  delivered  the  address  at 
his  funeral ;  for  two  years  they  lived  in  the  same 
house,  and  concerning  him  Emerson  wrote  in  1863, 
a  year  after  his  death,  "  In  reading  Henry  Thoreau's 
journal,  I  am  very  sensible  of  the  vigor  of  his  consti 
tution.  That  oaken  strength  which  I  noted  whenever 
he  walked  or  worked,  or  surveyed  wood-lots,  the  same 
unhesitating  hand  with  which  a  field  laborer  accosts 
a  piece  of  work  which  I  should  shun  as  a  waste  of 
strength,  Henry  shows  in  his  literary  task.  He  has 
muscle,  and  ventures  in  and  performs  feats  which  I 
am  forced  to  decline.  In  reading  him  I  find  the  same 
thoughts,  the  same  spirit  that  is  in  me,  but  he  takes  a 
step  beyond  and  illustrates  by  excellent  images  that 
which  I  should  have  conveyed  in  a  sleepy  generaliza 
tion.  'Tis  as  if  I  went  into  a  gymnasium  and  saw 
youths  leap  and  climb  and  swing  with  a  force  unap 
proachable,  though  these  feats  are  only  continuations 


220  On  an   Automobile 

of  my  initial  grapplings  and  jumps."  One  is  re 
minded  of  Mrs.  Hawthorne's  vivid  characterization 
of  the  two  men  as  she  saw  them  on  the  ice  of  the 
Musketaquid  twenty  years  before. 

In  our  reverence  for  a  place  where  a  great  man  for 
a  time  has  had  his  home,  we  must  not  forget  that, 
while  death  may  mark  a  given  spot,  life  is  quite  an 
other  matter.  A  man  may  be  born  or  may  die  in  a 
country,  a  city,  a  village,  a  house,  a  room,  or, — nar 
rower  still, — a  bed ;  for  birth  and  death  are  physical 
events,  but  life  is  something  quite  different.  Birth  is 
the  welding  of  the  soul  to  a  given  body ;  death  is  the 
dissolution  of  that  connection ;  life  is  the  relation  of 
the  imprisoned  soul  to  its  environment,  and  the  content 
of  that  environment  depends  largely  upon  the  indi 
vidual  ;  it  may  be  as  narrow  as  the  village  in  which 
he  lives,  or  it  may  stretch  beyond  the  uttermost  stars. 
A  man  may  live  on  a  farm,  or  he  may  visit  the  cities 
of  the  earth, — it  does  not  matter  much ;  his  life  is  the 
sum  total  of  his  experiences,  his  sympathies,  his  loves, 
of  his  hopes  and  ambitions,  his  dreams  and  aspirations, 
his  beliefs  and  convictions. 

To  live  is  to  love,  and  to  think,  and  to  dream,  and 
to  believe,  and  to  act  as  one  loves  and  thinks  and 
dreams  and  believes,  that  is  life ;  and,  therefore,  no 
man's  life  is  bounded  by  physical  confines,  no  man 
lives  in  this  place  or  that,  in  this  house  or  that ;  but 
every  man  lives  in  the  world  he  has  conquered  for  him 
self,  and  no  one  knows  the  limits  of  the  domains  of 
another. 

The  farmer's  boy  who  sows  the  seed  and  watches  the 


Lexington  and   Concord  221 

tender  blades  part  with  volcanic  force  the  surface  of 
the  earth,  making  it  to  heave  and  tremble,  who  sees  the 
buds  and  flowers  of  the  spring  ripen  into  the  fruit  and 
foliage  of  autumn,  who  follows  with  sympathetic  vision 
all  the  mysterious  processes  of  nature,  lives  a  broader 
and  nobler  life  than  the  merchant  who  sees  naught 
beyond  the  four  walls  of  his  counting-room,  or  the 
traveller  whose  superficial  eye  marks  only  the  strange 
and  the  curious. 

In  the  eyes  oj:  those  about  them  Hawthorne  "  lived" 
a  scant  mile  from  Emerson ;  in  reality  they  did  not  live 
in  the  same  spheres ;  the  boundaries  of  their  worlds 
did  not  overlap,  but,  like  two  far-separate  stars,  each 
felt  the  distant  attraction  and  admired  the  glow  of 
the  other,  and  that  was  all.  The  real  worlds  of  Thoreau 
and  Alcott  and  Emerson  did  at  times  so  far  overlap 
that  they  trod  on  common  ground,  but  these  periods 
were  so  brief  and  the  spaces  in  common  so  small  that 
soon  they  wandered  apart,  each  circling  by  himself  in 
an  orbit  of  his  own. 

Words  at  best  are  poor  instruments  of  thought ;   the    words 
more  we  use  them  the  more  ambiguous  do  they  be-   tnade<*uate 
come ;    no  man  knows  exactly  what  another  means 
from   what  he   says ;    every  word   is   qualified  by   its 
context,  but  the   context  of  every   word   is   eternity. 
How  long  shall  we  listen  to  find  out  what  a  speaker 
meant  by  his  opening  sentence? — an  hour,  a  day,  a 
week,  a  month? — these  periods  are  all  too  short,  for 
with  every  added  thought  the  meaning  of  the  first  is 
changed  for  him  as  well  as  for  us. 

"  Life"  in  common  speech  may  mean  either  mere 
organic  existence  or  a  metaphysical  assumption ;  we 


222  On  an  Automobile 

speak  of  the  life  of  a  tree,  and  the  life  .of  a  man,  and 
the  life  of  a  soul,  of  the  life  mortal  and  the  life  im 
mortal.  Who  can  tell  what  we  have  in  mind  when 
we  talk  of  life?  No  one,  for  we  cannot  tell  ourselves. 
We  speak  of  life  one  moment  with  a  certain  matter 
in  mind,  possibly  the  state  of  .our  garden ;  in  the  in 
finitesimal  fraction  of  a  second  additional  cells  of  our 
brain  come  into  activity,  additional  areas  are  excited, 
and  our  ideas  scale  the  walls  of  the  garden  and  scatter 
over  the  face  of  the  earth.  If  we  attempt  to  explain, 
the  very  process  implies  the  generation  of  new  ideas 
and  the  modification  of  old,  so  that  long  before  the 
explanation  of  what  we  meant  by  the  use  of  a  given 
word  is  finished,  the  meaning  has  undergone  a  change, 
and  we  perceive  that  what  we  thought  we  meant  by  no 
means  included  all  that  lurked  in  the  mind. 

The  boundaries  In  every-day  speech  we  are  obliged  to  distinguish  by 
elaborate  circumlocution  between  a  man's  place  of  resi 
dence  and  that  larger  and  truer  life, — his  sphere  of 
sympathies.  Emerson  lived  in  Concord,  Carlyle  in 
Chelsea ;  to  the  casual  reader  these  phrases  convey  the 
impression  that  the  life  of  Emerson  was  in  some  way 
identified  with  and  bounded  by  Concord ;  that  the  life 
of  Carlyle  was  in  some  way  identified  with  and 
bounded  by  Chelsea ;  that  in  some  subtle  manner  the 
census  of  those  two  small  communities  affected  the 
philosophy  of  the  two  men;  whereas  we  know  that 
for  a  long  time  the  worlds  in  which  they  really  did 
move  and  have  their  being  so  far  overlapped  that  they 
were  near  neighbors  in  thought,  much  nearer  than  they 


Lexington  and  Concord  223 

would  have  been  if  they  had   "  lived"   in   the   same 
village  and  met  daily  on  the  same  streets. 

The  directory  gives  a  man's  abode,  but  tells  us  noth 
ing,  absolutely  nothing,  about  his  life ;  the  number  of 
his  house  does  not  indicate  where  he  lives.  It  is  pos 
sible  to  live  in  London,  in  Paris,  in  Rome  without 
ever  having  visited  any  one  of  those  places ;  in  truth, 
millions  of  people  really  live  in  Rome  in  a  truer  sense 
than  many  who  have  their  abodes  there;  of  the  in 
habitants  of  Paris  comparatively  few  really  live  there, 
comparatively  few  have  any  knowledge  of  the  city,  its 
history,  its  traditions,  its  charms,  its  treasures,  but 
outside  Paris  there  are  thousands  of  men  and  women 
who  spend  many  hours  and  days  and  weeks  of  their 
time  in  reading,  learning,  and  thinking  about  Paris 
and  all  it  contains, — in  very  truth  living  there. 

Many  a  worthy  preacher  lives  so  exclusively  in  Jeru 
salem  that  he  knows  not  his  own  country,  and  his  use 
fulness  is  impaired ;  many  an  artist  lives  so  exclusively 
in  Paris  that  his  work  suffers ;  many  an  architect  lives 
so  long  among  the  buildings  of  other  days  that  he  can 
do  nothing  of  his  own.  In  fact,  most  men  who  are 
devoted  to  intellectual,  literary,  and  artistic  pursuits 
live  anywhere  and  everywhere  except  at  home. 

The  one  great  merit  of  Walt  Whitman  is  that  he 
lived  in  America  and  in  the  nineteenth  century ;  he  did 
not  live  in  the  past;  he  did  not  live  in  Europe;  he 
lived  in  the  present  and  in  the  world  about  him,  his 
home  was  America,  his  era  was  his  own. 

If  we  have  no  national  literature,  it  is  because  those  A  national 
who  write  spend  the  better  part  of  their  lives  abroad ;   literature 
they  may  not  leave  their  own  firesides,  but  all  their 


224  ^n  an  Automobile 

sympathies  are  elsewhere,  all  their  inspiration  is  drawn 
from  other  lands  and  other  times. 

We  have  very  little  art,  very  little  architecture,  very 
little  music  of  our  own  for  the  same  reasons.  We 
have  any  number  of  painters,  sculptors,  composers,  but 
few  of  them  live  at  home ;  their  sympathies  are  else 
where  ;  they  seem  to  have  little  or  nothing  in  common 
with  their  surroundings.  Now  and  then  a  clear,  fresh 
voice  is  heard  from  out  of  the  woods  and  fields,  or 
over  the  city's  din,  speaking  with  the  convincing  elo 
quence  of  immediate  knowledge  and  first-hand  obser 
vation  ;  but  there  are  so  few  of  these  voices  that  they 
do  not  amount  to  a  chorus,  and  a  national  literature 
means  a  chorus. 

All  this  will  gradually  change  until  some  day  the 
preacher  will  return  from  Jerusalem,  the  painter  from 
Paris,  the  poet  from  England,  the  architect  from 
Rome,  and  the  overwhelming  problems  presented  by 
the  unparalleled  development  and  opportunities  of 
America  will  absorb  their  attention  to  the  exclusion  of 
all  else. 

Allurements  The  danger  of  travel,  the  danger  of  learning,  the 

danger  of  reading,  of  profound  research  and  extensive 
observation,  lies  in  the  fact  that  some  age,  city,  or 
country,  some  man  or  coterie  of  men,  may  gain  too 
firm  a  hold,  may  so  absorb  the  attention  and  restrict 
the  imagination  that  the  sense  of  proportion  is  lost. 
It  requires  a  level  head  to  withstand  the  allurements 
of  the  past,  the  fascination  of  the  foreign.  Nothing 
disturbed  Shakespeare's  equanimity.  Neither  Strat 
ford  nor  London  bounded  his  life.  On  the  wings  of 


Lexington  and  Concord  225 

his  imagination  he  visited  the  known  earth  and  pene 
trated  beyond  the  blue  skies,  he  made  the  universe  his 
home ;  and  yet  he  was  essentially  and  to  the  last  an 
Englishman. 

When  we  stopped  before  "  Orchard  House"  it  was   orchard  House 
desolate  and  forsaken,  and  the  entrance  to  the  "  Hill 
side  Chapel,"  where  the  "  Concord  School  of  Philoso 
phy  and  Literature"  had  its  home  for  nine  years,  was 
boarded  up. 

Parts  of  the  house  had  been  built  more  than  a  cen 
tury  and  a  half  when  Mrs.  Alcott  bought  it  in  1857. 
In  her  journal  for  July,  1858,  the  author  of  "  Little 
Women"  records,  "  Went  into  the  new  house  and 
began  to  settle.  Father  is  happy;  mother  glad  to  be 
at  rest ;  Anna  is  in  bliss  with  her  gentle  John ;  and 
May  busy  over  her  pictures.  I  have  plans  simmering, 
but  must  sweep  and  dust  and  wash  my  dishpans  a 
while  longer  till  I  see  my  way." 

Meanwhile  the  little  women  paper  and  decorate  the 
walls,  May  in  her  enthusiasm  rilling  panels  and  every 
vacant  place  with  birds  and  flowers  and  mottoes  in  old 
English. 

"  August.  Much  company  to  see  the  new  house.  All 
seem  to  be  glad  that  the  wandering  family  is  anchored 
at  last.  We  won't  move  again  for  twenty  years"  (pro 
phetic  soul  to  name  the  period  so  exactly)  "  if  I  can 
help  it.  The  old  people  need  an  abiding  place,  and 
now  that  death  and  love  have  taken  two  of  us  away,  I 
can,  I  hope,  soon  manage  to  take  care  of  the  remaining 
four." 

It  is  one  of  the  ironies  of  fate  that  the  fame  of  Bron- 
15 


226  On  an  Automobile 

son  Alcott  should  hang  upon  that  of  his  gifted 
daughter.  It  was  not  until  she  made  her  great  success 
with  "  Little  Women"  in  1868  that  the  outside  world 
began  to  take  a  vivid  interest  in  the  father.  From 
that  time  his  lectures  and  conversations  began  to  pay ; 
he  was  seized  anew  with  the  desire  to  publish,  and 
from  1868  until  the  beginning  of  his  illness  in  1882 
he  printed  or  reprinted  nearly  his  entire  works, — some 
eight  .or  ten  volumes ;  it  is  no  disparagement  to  the 
kindly  old  philosopher  that  his  books  were  bought 
mainly  on  the  success  of  his  daughter's. 
The  summer  The  Summer  School  of  Philosophy  was  the  last 

School  of  1  .   .  .  .    .       ,  .. 

Philosophy         ambitious  attempt  of  a  spirit  that  had  been  struggling 
for  half  a  century  to  teach  mankind. 

The  small  chapel  of  plain,  unpainted  boards,  nestling 
among  the  trees  on  the  hillside,  has  not  been  opened 
since  1888.  It  stands  a  pathetic  memento  to  a  vision. 
Twenty  years  ago  the  "  school"  was  an  overshadowing 
reality, — to-day  it  is  a  memory,  a  minor  incident  in  the 
progress  of  thought,  a  passing  phase  in  intellectual 
development.  Many  eminent  men  lectured  there,  and 
the  scope  of  the  work  is  by  no  means  indicated  by  the 
humble  building  which  remains ;  but,  while  strong  in 
conversation  and  in  the  expression  of  his  own  views, 
Alcott  was  not  cut  out  for  a  leader.  All  reports  indi 
cate  that  he  had  a  wonderful  facility  in  the  off-hand 
expression  of  abstruse  thought,  but  he  had  no  faculty 
whatsoever  for  so  ordering  and  systematizing  his 
thoughts  as  to  furnish  explosive  material  for  bellig 
erent  followers ;  the  intellectual  ammunition  he  put 
up  was  not  in  the  convenient  form  of  cartridges,  nor 
even  in  kegs  or  barrels,  but  just  poured  out  on  the 


Lexington  and  Concord  227 

ground,    where    it    disintegrated    before    it    could    be 
used. 


Leaning  on  the  gate  that  bright,  warm,  summer 
afternoon,  it  was  not  difficult  to  picture  the  venerable, 
white-haired  philosopher  seated  by  the  doorstep  argu 
ing  eloquently  with  some  congenial  visitor,  or  chatting 
with  his  daughter.  One  could  almost  see  a  small 
throng  of  serious  men  and  w.omen  wending  their  way 
up  the  still  plainly  marked  path  to  the  chapel,  and 
catch  the  measured  tones  of  the  lecturer  as  he  ex 
pounded  theories  too  recondite  for  this  practical  age 
and  generation. 

Philosophy  is  the  sarcophagus  of  truth ;  and  most 
systems  of  philosophy  are  like  the  pyramids, — impres 
sive  piles  of  useless  intellectual  masonry,  erected  at 
prodigious  cost  of  time  and  labor  to  secrete  from  man 
kind  the  truth. 

A  little  farther  on  we  came  to  the  fork  in  the  road   Emerson's 
where  Lincoln  Street  branches  off  to  the  southeast. 
Emerson's  house  fronts  on  Lincoln  and  is  a  few  rods 
from  the  intersection  with  Lexington   Street.     Here 
Emerson  lived  from  1835  until  his  death  in  1882. 

It  is  singular  the  fascination  exercised  by  localities 
and  things  identified  with  great  men.  It  is  not  enough 
to  simply  see,  but  in  so  far  as  possible  we  wish  to  place 
ourselves  in  their  places,  to  walk  where  they  walked, 
sit  where  they  sat,  sleep  where  they  slept,  to  merge 
our  petty  and  obscure  individualities  for  the  time  being 
in  theirs,  to  lose  our  insignificant  selves  in  the  atmos 
phere  they  created  and  left  behind.  Is  it  possible  that 


228  On  an  Automobile 

subtile  distillations  of  personality  penetrate  and  satu 
rate  inanimate  things,  so  that  aromas  imperceptible  to 
the  sense  are  given  off  for  ages  and  affect  all  who  come 
in  re:eptive  mood  within  their  influence?  It  is  quite 
likely  that  what  we  feel  when  we  stand  within  the 
shadow  of  a  great  soul  is  all  subjective,  that  our  emo 
tions  are  but  the  workings  of  our  imaginations  stirred 
by  suggestive  surroundings ;  but  who  knows,  who 
knows  ? 

The  fire  in  1872  When  this  house  was  nearly  destroyed  by  fire  in 
July,  1872,  friends  persuaded  Emerson  to  go  abroad 
with  his  daughter,  and  while  they  were  away,  the 
house  was  completely  restored. 

His  son  describes  his  return :  "  When  the  train 
reached  Concord,  the  bells  were  rung  and  a  great  com 
pany  of  his  neighbors  and  friends  accompanied  him, 
under  a  triumphal  arch,  to  his  restored  house.  He  was 
greatly  moved,  but  with  characteristic  modesty  insisted 
that  this  was  a  welcome  to  his  daughter,  and  could 
not  be  meant  for  him.  Although  he  had  felt  quite  un 
able  to  make  any  speech,  yet,  seeing  his  friendly  towns 
people,  old  and  young,  in  groups  watching  him  enter 
his  own  door  once  more,  he  turned  suddenly  back  and 
going  to  the  gate  said,  '  My  friends !  I  know  this  is 
not  a  tribute  to  an  old  man  and  his  daughter  returned 
to  their  home,  but  to  the  common  blood  of  us  all — one 
family — in  Concord.' ' 

Last  days  The  exposure  incidental  to  the  fire  seriously  under 

mined  Emerson's  already  failing  health ;  shortly  after 
he  wrote  a  friend  in  Philadelphia,  "  It  is  too  ridiculous 


Lexington  and  Concord  229 

that  a  fire  should  make  an  old  scholar  sick;  but  the 
exposures  of  that  morning  and  the  necessities  of  the 
following  days  which  kept  me  a  large  part  of  the  time 
in  the  blaze  of  the  sun  have  in  every  way  demoralized 
me  for  the  present, — incapable  of  any  sane  or  just 
action.  .  .  .  These  signal  proofs  of  my  debility  and 
decay  ought  to  persuade  you  at  your  first  northern  ex 
cursion  to  come  and  reanimate  and  renew  the  failing 
powers  of  your  still  affectionate  old  friend." 

The  story  of  his  last  days  is  told  by  his  son,  who 
was  also  his  physician : 

"  His  last  few  years  were  quiet  and  happy.  Nature 
gently  drew  the  veil  over  his  eyes ;  he  went  to  his 
study  and  tried  to  work,  accomplished  less  and  less,  but 
did  not  notice  it.  However,  he  made  out  to  look  over 
and  index  most  of  his  journals.  He  enjoyed  reading, 
but  found  so  much  difficulty  in  conversation  in  asso 
ciating  the  right  word  with  his  idea,  that  he  avoided 
going  into  company,  and  on  that  account  gradually 
ceased  to  attend  the  meetings  of  the  Social  Circle.  As 
his  critical  sense  became  dulled,  his  standard  of  in 
tellectual  performance  was  less  exacting,  and  this  was 
most  fortunate,  for  he  gladly  went  to  any  public  occa 
sion  where  he  could  hear,  and  nothing  would  be  ex 
pected  of  him.  He  attended  the  Lyceum  and  all  occa 
sions  of  speaking  or  reading  in  the  Town  Hall  with 
unfailing  pleasure. 

"  He  read  a  lecture  before  his  townpeople  each 
winter  as  late  as  1880,  but  needed  to  have  one  of  his 
family  near  by  to  help  him  out  with  a  word  and  assist 
in  keeping  the  place  in  his  manuscript.  In  these  last 
years  he  liked  to  go  to  church.  The  instinct  had  always 


230  On  an  Automobile 

been  there,  but  he  had  felt  that  he  could  use  his  time  to 
better  purpose." 

HIS  last  illness  «  In  April,  1 882,  a  raw  and  backward  spring,  he 
caught  cold,  and  increased  it  by  walking  .out  in  the 
rain  and,  through  forgetfulness,  omitting  to  put  on 
his  over-coat.  He  had  a  hoarse  cold  for  a  few  days, 
and  on  the  morning  of  April  19  I  found  him  a  little 
feverish,  so  went  to  see  him  next  day.  He  was  asleep 
on  his  study  sofa,  and  when  he  awoke  he  proved  to  be 
more  feverish  and  a  little  bewildered,  with  unusual 
difficulty  in  finding  the  right  word.  He  was  entirely 
comfortable  and  enjoyed  talking,  and,  as  he  liked  to 
have  me  read  to  him,  I  read  Paul  Revere's  Ride,  find 
ing  that  he  could  only  follow  simple  narrative.  He 
expressed  great  pleasure,  was  delighted  that  the  story 
was  part  of  Concord's  story,  but  was  sure  he  had  never 
heard  it  before,  and  could  hardly  be  made  to  under 
stand  who  Longfellow  was,  though  he  had  attended 
his  funeral  only  the  week  before." 

It  was  at  Longfellow's  funeral  that  Emerson  got  up 
from  his  chair,  went  to  the  side  of  the  coffin  and  gazed 
long  and  earnestly  upon  the  familiar  face  of  the  dead 
poet ;  twice  he  did  this,  then  said  to  a  friend  near  him, 
"  That  gentleman  was  a  sweet,  beautiful  soul,  but  I 
have  entirely  forgotten  his  name." 

Continuing  the  narrative,  the  son  says :  "  Though 
dulled  to  other  impressions,  to  one  he  was  fresh  as 
long  as  he  could  understand  anything,  and  while  even 
the  familiar  objects  of  his  study  began  to  look  strange, 
he  smiled  and  pointed  to  Carlyle's  head  and  said, 
'  That  is  my  man,  my  good  man !'  I  mention  this  be- 


Lexington  and   Concord  231 

cause  it  has  been  said  that  this  friendship  cooled,  and 
that  my  father  had  for  long  years  neglected  to  write 
to  his  early  friend.  He  was  loyal  while  life  lasted, 
but  had  been  unable  to  write  a  letter  for  years  before 
he  died.  Their  friendship  did  not  need  letters. 

"  The  next  day  pneumonia  developed  itself  in  a  por 
tion  of  one  lung  and  he  seemed  much  sicker ;  evidently 
believed  he  was  to  die,  and  with  difficulty  made  out 
to  give  a  word  or  two  of  instructions  to  his  children. 
He  did  not  know  how  to  be  sick,  and  desired  to  be 
dressed  and  sit  up  in  his  study,  and  as  we  had  found 
that  any  attempt  to  regulate  his  actions  lately  was  very 
annoying  to  him,  and  he  could  not  be  made  to  under 
stand  the  reasons  for  our  doing  so  in  his  condition,  I 
determined  that  it  would  not  be  worth  while  to  trouble 
and  restrain  him  as  it  would  a  younger  person  who  had 
more  to  live  for.  He  had  lived  free ;  his  life  was 
essentially  spent,  and  in  what  must  almost  surely  be  his 
last  illness  we  would  not  embitter  the  occasion  by  any 
restraint  that  was  not  absolutely  unavoidable. 

"  He  suffered  very  little,  took  his  nourishment  well, 
but  had  great  annoyance  from  his  inability  to  find  the 
words  which  he  wished  for.  He  knew  his  friends  and 
family,  but  thought  he  was  in  a  strange  house.  He 
sat  up  in  a  chair  by  the  fire  much  of  the  time,  and  only 
on  the  last  day  stayed  entirely  in  bed. 

"  During  the  sickness  he  always  showed  pleasure 
when  his  wife  sat  by  his  side,  and  on  one  of  the  last 
days  he  managed  to  express,  in  spite  of  his  difficulty 
with  words,  how  long  and  happy  they  had  lived  to 
gether.  The  sight  of  his  grandchildren  always  brought 


232  On  an  Automobile 

the  brightest  smile  to  his  face.  On  the  last  day  he 
saw  several  of  his  friends  and  took  leave  of  them. 

"  Only  at  the  last  came  pain,  and  this  was  at  once 
relieved  by  ether,  and  in  the  quiet  sleep  this  produced 
he  gradually  faded  away  in  the  evening  of  Thursday, 
April  27,  1882. 

"  Thirty-five  years  earlier  he  wrote  one  morning  in 
his  journal :  '  I  said,  when  I  awoke,  after  some  more 
sleepings  and  wakings  I  shall  lie  on  this  mattress  sick ; 
then  dead ;  and  through  my  gay  entry  they  will  carry 
these  bones.  Where  shall  I  be  then  ?  I  lifted  my  head 
and  beheld  the  spotless  orange  light  of  the  morning 
streaming  up  from  the  dark  hills  into  the  wide  uni- 


After  an  j  After  a  few  more  sleepings  and  a  few  more  wakings 
we  shall  all  lie  dead,  every  living  soul  on  this  broad 
earth, — all  who,  at  this  mathematical  point  in  time 
called  the  present,  breathe  the  breath  of  life  will  pass 
away ;  but  even  now  the  new  generation  is  springing 
into  life;  within  the  next  hour  five  thousand  bodies 
will  be  born  into  the  world  to  perpetuate  mankind ;  the 
whole  lives  by  the  constant  renewal  of  its  parts ;  but 
the  individual,  what  becomes  of  the  individual? 

The  five  thousand  bodies  that  are  born  within  the 
hour  take  the  place  of  the  something  less  than  five 
thousand  bodies  that  die  within  the  hour;  the  succes 
sion  is  preserved ;  the  life  of  the  aggregate  is  assured  ; 
but  the  individual,  what  becomes  of  the  individual? 
Is  he  immortal,  and  if  immortal  whence  came  he  and 
whither  does  he  go?  if  immortal,  whence  come  these 
new  souls  which  are  being  delivered  on  the  face  of  the 


Lexington  and  Concord  233 

globe  at  the  rate  of  nearly  a  hundred  a  minute?  Are 
they  from  other  worlds,  exiled  for  a  time  to  this,  or 
are  they  souls  revisiting-  their  former  habitation? 
Hardly  the  latter,  for  more  are  coming  than  going. 

One  midsummer  night,  while  leaning  over  the  rail 
of  an  ocean  steamer  and  watching  the  white  foam 
thrown  up  by  the  prow,  the  expanse  of  dark,  heaving 
water,  the  vast  dome  of  sky  studded  with  the  brilliant 
jewels  of  space,  an  old  man  stopped  by  my  side  and 
we  talked  of  the  grandeur  of  nature  and  the  mysteries 
of  life  and  death,  and  he  said,  "  My  wife  and  I  once 
had  three  boys,  whom  we  loved  better  than  life;  one 
by  one  they  were  taken  from  us, — they  all  died,  and 
my  wife  and  I  were  left  alone  in  the  world ;  but  after 
a  time  a  boy  was  born  to  us  and  we  gave  him  the  name 
of  the  oldest  who  died,  and  then  another  came  and  we 
gave  him  the  name  of  my  second  boy,  and  then  a  third 
was  born  and  we  gave  him  the  name  of  our  youngest ; 
— and  so  in  some  mysterious  way  our  three  boys  have 
come  back  to  us;  we  feel  that  they  went  away  for  a 
little  while  and  returned.  I  have  sometimes  looked  in 
their  eyes  and  asked  them  if  anything  they  saw  or 
heard  seemed  familiar,  whether  there  was  any  faint 
fleeting  memories  of  other  days ;  they  say  '  no ;'  but  I 
am  sure  that  their  souls  are  the  souls  of  the  boys  we 
lost." 

And  why  not?    Is  it  not  more  than  likely  that  there    one  soul 
is  but  one  soul  which  dwells  in  all  things  animate  and 
inanimate,  or  rather,  are  not  all  things  animate  and 
inanimate  but  manifestations  of  the  one  soul,  so  that 
the  death  of  an  individual  is,  after  all,  but  the  sup- 


234 


On  an  Automobile 


pression  of  a  particular  manifestation  and  in  no  sense 
a  release  of  a  separate  soul ;  so  that  the  birth  of  a  child 
is  but  a  new  manifestation  in  physical  form  .of  the  one 
soul,  and  in  no  sense  the  apparition  of  an  additional 
soul  ?  It  is  difficult  to  think  otherwise.  The  birth  and 
death  of  souls  are  inconceivable ;  the  immortality  of  a 
vast  and  varying  number  of  individual  souls  is  equally 
inconceivable.  Immortality  implies  unity,  not  number. 
The  mind  can  grasp  the  possibility  of  one  soul,  the 
manifestation  of  which  is  the  universe  and  all  it  con 
tains. 

The  hypothesis  of  individual  souls  first  confined  in 
and  then  released  from  individual  bodies  to  preserve 
their  individuality  for  all  time  is  inconceivable,  since 
it  assumes — to  coin  a  word — an  intersoulular  space, 
which  must  necessarily  be  filled  with  a  medium  that 
is  either  material  or  spiritual  in  its  character ;  if  ma 
terial,  then  we  have  the  inconceivable  condition  of 
spiritual  entities  surrounded  by  a  material  medium ; 
if  the  intersoulular  space  be  occupied  by  a  spiritual 
medium,  then  we  have  simply  souls  surrounded  by 
soul, — or,  in  the  final  analysis,  one  soul,  of  which  the 
so-called  individual  souls  are  but  so  many  manifesta 
tions. 

To  the  assumption  of  an  all-pervading  ether  which 
is  the  physical  basis  of  the  universe,  may  we  not  add 
the  suprasumption  of  an  all-pervading  soul  which  is 
the  spiritual  basis  of  not  only  the  ether  but  of  life 
itself?  The  seeming  duality  of  mind  and  matter,  of 
the  soul  and  body,  must  terminate  somewhere,  must 
merge  in  identity.  Whether  that  identity  be  the  Crea 
tor  of  theology  or  the  soul  of  speculation  does  not  much 


Lexington  and  Concord  235 

matter,  since  the  final  result  is  the  same,  namely,  the 
immortality  of  that  suprasumption,  the  soul. 

But  the  individual,  what  becomes  of  the  individual    what  becomes 
in  this  assumption  of  an  all-pervading,  immortal  soul,   °fnM*iduaif 
of  which  all  things  animate  and  inanimate  are  but  so 
many  activities? 

The  body,  which  for  a  time  being  is  a  part  of  the 
local  manifestation  of  the  pervading  soul,  dies  and  is 
resolved  into  its  constituent  elements ;  it  is  inconceiv 
able  that  those  elements  should  ever  gather  themselves 
together  again  and  appear  in  visible,  tangible  form.  No 
one  could  possibly  desire  they  ever  should ;  those  who 
die  maimed,  or  from  sickness  and  disease,  or  in  the 
decrepitude  and  senility  of  age,  could  not  possibly  wish 
that  their  disordered  bodies  should  appear  again;  nor 
could  any  person  name  the  exact  period  of  his  life 
when  he  was  so  satisfied  with  his  physical  condition 
that  he  would  choose  to  have  his  body  as  it  then  was. 
No ;  the  body,  like  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree,  decays 
and  disappears ;  like  ripe  fruit,  it  drops  to  the  earth 
and  enriches  the  soil,  but  nevermore  resumes  its  form 
and  semblance. 

The  pervading  soul,  of  which  the  body  was  but  the  The 
physical  manifestation,  remains ;  it  does  not  return  to 
heaven  or  any  hypothetical  point  in  either  space  or 
speculation.  The  dissolution  of  the  body  is  but  the 
dissolution  of  a  particular  manifestation  of  the  all- 
pervading  soul,  and  the  immortality  of  the  so-called 
individual  soul  is  but  the  persistence  of  that,  so  to 
speak,  local  disturbance  in  the  one  soul  after  the  body 
has  disappeared.  It  is  quite  conceivable,  or  rather  the 
reverse  is  inconceivable,  that  the  activity  of  the  per- 


236  On  an   Automobile 

vading  soul,  which  manifests  itself  for  a  time  in  the 
body,  persists  indefinitely  after  the  physical  manifesta 
tion  has  ceased  ;  that,  with  the  cessation  of  the  physical 
manifestation,  the  particular  activity  which  we  recog 
nize  here  as  an  individuality  will  so  persist  that  here 
after  we  may  recognize  it  as  a  spiritual  personality. 
In  other  words,  assuming  the  existence  of  a  soul  of 
which  the  universe  and  all  it  contains  are  but  so  many 
manifestations,  it  is  dimly  conceivable  that  with  the 
cessation,  or  rather  the  transformation,  of  any  particu 
lar  manifestation,  the  effects  may  so  persist  as  to  be 
forever  known  and  recognizable, — not  by  parts  of  the 
one  soul,  which  has  no  parts,  but  by  the  soul  itself. 

AH  things  Therefore  all  things  are  immortal.     Nothing  is  so 

lost  to  the  infinite  soul  as  to  be  wholly  and  totally  ob 
literated.  The  withering  of  a  flower  is  as  much  the 
act  of  the  all-pervatling  soul  as  the  death  of  a  child; 
but  the  life  and  death  of  a  human  being  involve  ac 
tivities  of  the  soul  so  incomparably  greater  than  the 
blossoming  of  a  plant,  that  the  immortality  of  the  one, 
while  not  differing  in  kind,  may  be  infinitely  more 
important  in  degree.  The  manifestation  of  the  soul 
in  the  life  of  the  humming-bird  is  slight  in  comparison 
with  the  manifestation  in  the  life  of  a  man,  and  the 
traces  which  persist  forever  in  the  case  of  the  former 
are  probably  insignificant  compared  with  the  traces 
which  persist  in  the  case  of  the  latter ;  but  traces  must 
persist,  else  there  is  no  immortality  of  the  individual ; 
at  the  same  time  there  is  not  the  slightest  reason  for 
urging  that,  whereas  traces  of  the  soul's  activity  in  the 
form  of  man  will  persist,  traces  of  the  soul's  activity 


Lexington  and   Concord  237 

in  lower  forms  of  life  and  in  things  inanimate  will  not 
persist.  There  is  no  reason  why,  when  the  physical 
barriers  which  exist  between  us  and  the  soul  that  is 
within  and  without  us  are  destroyed,  we  should  not 
desire  to  know  forever  all  that  the  universe  contains. 
Why  should  not  the  sun  and  the  moon  and  the  stars  be 
immortal, — as  immortal  in  their  way  as  we  in  ours, 
both  immortal  in  the  one  all-pervading  soul? 

;<  The   philosophy   of   six   thousand   years   has   not    The  over-soui 
searched  the  chambers  and  the  magazine  of  the  soul. 
In  its  experiments  there  has  always  remained,  in  the 
last   analysis,   a   residuum   it   could   not   solve,"   said 
Emerson  in  the  lecture  he  called  "  Over-Soul." 

What  a  pity  to  use  the  phrase  "  Over-Soul,"  which 
removes  the  soul  even  farther  aloof  than  it  is  in  popu 
lar  conception,  or  which  fosters  the  belief  of  an  inner 
and  outer,  or  an  inferior  and  a  superior  soul ;  whereas 
Emerson  meant,  as  the  context  shows,  the  all-per 
vading  soul. 

But,  then,  who  knows  what  any  one  else  thinks  or    The  sounding 
means?    At  the  most  we  only  know  what  others  say,  phrase 
what  words  they  use,  but  in  what  sense  they  use  them 
and  the  content  of  thought  back  of  them  we  do  not 
know.     So  far  as  the  problems  of  life  go  we  are  all 
groping  in  the  dark,  and  words  are  like  fireflies  leading 
us  hither  and  thither  with  glimpses  of  light  only  to  go 
out,  leaving  us  in  darkness  and  despair. 

It  is  the  sounding  phrase  that  catches  the  ear.  "  For 
fools  admire  and  like  all  things  the  more  which  they 
perceive  to  be  concealed  under  involved  language,  and 
determine  things  to  be  true  which  can  prettily  tickle 


238  On  an  Automobile 

the  ears  and  are  varnished  over  with  finely  sounding 
phrase,"  says  Lucretius.  We  imagine  we  understand 
when  we  do  not;  we  do  not  really,  truly,  and  wholly 
understand  Emerson  or  any  other  man;  we  do  not 
understand  ourselves. 

We  speak  of  the  conceivable  and  of  the  inconceivable 
as  if  the  words  had  any  clear  and  tangible  meaning 
in  our  minds ;  whereas  they  have  not ;  at  the  best  they 
are  of  but  relative  value.  What  is  conceivable  to  one 
man  is  inconceivable  to  another ;  what  is  beyond  the  per 
ception  of  one  generation  is  matter  of  fact  to  the  next. 

The  conceivable  is  and  ever  must  be  bounded  by 
the  inconceivable;  the  domain  of  the  former  is  finite, 
that  of  the  latter  is  infinite.  It  matters  not  how  far 
we  press  our  speculations,  how  extravagant  our  hy 
potheses,  how  distant  our  vision,  we  reach  at  length 
the  confines  of  our  thought  and  admit  the  inconceiv 
able.  The  inconceivable  is  a  postulate  as  essential  to 
reason  as  is  the  conceivable.  That  the  inconceivable 
exists  is  as  certain  as  the  existence  of  the  conceivable ; 
it  is  in  a  sense  more  certain,  since  we  constantly  find 
ourselves  in  error  in  our  conclusions  concerning  the 
existence  of  the  things  we  know,  while  we  can  never 
be  in  error  concerning  the  existence  of  things  we  can 
never  know,  being  sure  that  beyond  the  confines  of  the 
finite  there  must  necessarily  be  the  infinite. 

We  may  indulge  in  assumptions  concerning  the  in 
finite  based  upon  our  knowledge  of  the  finite,  or,  rather, 
based  upon  the  inflexible  laws  of  our  mental  processes. 
We  may  say  that  there  must  be  one  all-pervading  soul, 
not  because  we  can  form  any  conception  whatsoever 
of  the  true  nature  of  such  a  soul,  but  because  the  alter- 


Lexington  and  Concord  239 

native  hypothesis  of  many  individual  souls  is  utterly 
obnoxious  to  our  reason. 

To  those  who  urge  that  it  is  idle  to  reason  about 
what  we  cannot  conceive,  it  is  sufficient  answer  to  say 
that  man  cannot  help  it.  The  scientist  and  the  ma 
terialist  in  the  ardent  pursuit  of  knowledge  soon  ex 
perience  the  necessity  of  indulging  in  assumptions 
concerning  force  and  matter,  the  hypothetical  ether 
and  molecules,  atoms  and  vortices,  which  are  as  purely 
metaphysical  as  any  assumptions  concerning  the  soul. 
The  distinction  between  the  realist  and  the  idealist  is 
a  matter  of  temperament.  All  that  separated  Huxley 
from  Gladstone  was  a  word ;  each  argued  from  the 
unknowable,  but  disputed  over  the  name  and  attributes 
of  the  inconceivable.  Huxley  said  he  did  not  know, 
which  was  equivalent  to  the  dogmatic  assertion  that  he 
did ;  Gladstone  said  he  did  know,  which  was  a  con 
fession  of  ignorance  denser  than  that  of  agnosticism. 

Those  men  who  try  not  to  think  or  reason  concern 
ing  the  infinite  simply  imprison  themselves  within  the 
four  walls  of  the  cell  they  construct.  It  is  better  to 
think  and  be  wrong  than  not  to  think  at  all.  Any 
assumption  is  better  than  no  assumption,  any  belief 
better  than  none. 

Hypotheses  enlarge  the  boundaries  of  knowledge. 
With  assumptions  the  intellectual  prospector  stakes  out 
the  infinite.  In  life  we  may  not  verify  our  premises, 
but  death  is  the  proof  of  all  things. 

We  stopped  at  Wright's  tavern,  where  patriots  used   /« the  Square 
to  meet  before  the  days  of  the  revolution,  and  where 
Major  Pitcairn  is  said — wrongfully  in  all  probability 


240  On  an  Automobile 

— to  have  made  his  boast  on  the  morning  of  the  I9th, 
as  he  stirred  his  toddy,  that  they  would  stir  the  rebels' 
blood  before  night. 

One  realizes  that  "  there  is  but  one  Concord"  as  the 
carriages  of  pilgrims  are  counted  in  the  Square,  and 
the  swarm  .of  young  guides,  with  pamphlets  and  maps, 
importune  the  chance  visitor. 

We  chose  the  most  persistent  little  urchin,  not  that 
we  could  not  find  our  way  about  so  small  a  village, 
but  because  he  wanted  to  ride,  and  it  is  always  inter 
esting  to  draw  out  a  child ;  his  story  of  the  town  and 
its  famous  places  was,  of  course,  the  one  he  had 
learned  from  the  others,  but  his  comments  were  his 
own,  and  the  incongruity  of  going  over  the  sacred 
ground  in  an  automobile  had  its  effect. 

The  embattled        It  was  a  short  run  down  Monument  Street  to  the 
farmers  ^^  ^  beyond  the  «  Qld  Manse."    Here  the  British 

turned  to  cross  the  North  Bridge  on  their  way  to 
Colonel  Barrett's  house,  where  the  ammunition  was 
stored.  Just  across  the  narrow  bridge  the  "  embattled 
farmers  stood  and  fired  the  shot  heard  round  the 
world."  A  monument  marks  the  spot  where  the 
British  received  the  fire  of  the  farmers,  and  a  stone 
at  the  side  recites  "  Graves  of  two  British  soldiers," 
— unknown  wanderers  from  home  they  surrendered 
their  lives  in  a  quarrel,  the  merits  of  which  they  did 
not  know.  "  Soon  was  their  warfare  ended ;  a  weary 
night  march  from  Boston,  a  rattling  volley  of  mus 
ketry  across  the  river,  and  then  these  many  years  of 
rest.  In  the  long  procession  of  slain  invaders  who 
passed  into  eternity  from  the  battle-field  of  the  revo- 


Lexington  and   Concord  241 

lution,  these  two  nameless  soldiers  led  the  way." 
While  standing  by  the  grave,  Hawthorne  was  told  a 
story,  a  tradition  of  how  a  youth,  hurrying  to  the 
battle-field  axe  in  hand,  came  upon  these  two  soldiers, 
one  not  yet  dead  raised  himself  up  painfully  on  his 
hands  and  knees,  and  how  the  youth  on  the  impulse 
of  the  moment  cleft  the  wounded  man's  head  with  the 
axe.  The  tradition  is  probably  false,  but  it  made  its 
impression  on  Hawthorne,  who  continues,  "  I  could 
wish  that  the  grave  might  be  opened;  for  I  would 
fain  know  whether  either  of  the  skeleton  soldiers  has 
the  mark  of  an  axe  in  his  skull.  The  story  comes  home 
to  me  like  truth.  Oftentimes,  as  an  intellectual  and 
moral  exercise,  I  have  sought  to  follow  that  poor  youth 
through  his  subsequent  career  and  observe  how  his 
soul  was  tortured  by  the  blood-stain,  contracted  as  it 
had  been  before  the  long  custom  of  war  had  robbed 
human  life  of  its  sanctity,  and  while  it  still  seemed 
murderous  to  slay  a  brother  man.  This  one  circum 
stance  has  borne  more  fruit  for  me  than  all  that  his 
tory  tells  us  of  the  fight." 

There  are  souls  so  callous  that  the  taking  of  a  human 
life  is  no  more  than  the  killing  of  a  beast;  there  are 
souls  so  sensitive  that  they  will  not  kill  a  living  thing. 
The  man  who  can  relate  without  regret  so  profound 
it  is  close  akin  to  remorse  the  killing  of  another — no 
matter  what  the  provocation,  no  matter  what  the  cir 
cumstances — is  next  kin  to  the  common  hangman. 

From  the  windows  of  the  "  Old  Manse,"  the  Rev. 
William  Emerson,  grandfather  of  Ralph  Waldo  Emer- 

16 


242  On  an  Automobile 

son,  looked  out  upon  the  battle,  and  he  would  have 
taken  part  in  the  fight  had  not  his  neighbors  held  him 
back ;  as  it  was,  he  sacrificed  his  life  the  following  year 
in  attempting  to  join  the  army  at  Ticonderoga,  con 
tracting  a  fever  which  proved  fatal. 

sieepy  Hollow  Sleepy  Hollow  Cemetery  lies  on  Bedford  Street  not 
far  from  the  Town  Hall.  We  followed  the  winding 
road  to  the  hill  where  Hawthorne,  Thoreau,  the  Al- 
cotts,  and  Emerson  lie  buried  within  a  half-dozen  paces 
of  one  another. 

Thoreau  came  first  in  May,  1862.  Emerson  de 
livered  the  funeral  address.  Mrs.  Hawthorne  writes 
in  her  diary,  "  Mr.  Thoreau  died  this  morning.  The 
funeral  services  were  in  the  church.  Mr.  Emerson 
spoke.  Mr.  Alcott  read  from  Mr.  Thoreau's  writings. 
The  body  was  in  the  vestibule  covered  with  wild 
flowers.  We  went  to  the  grave." 

Hawthorne  came  next,  just  two  years  later.  "  On 
the  24th  of  May,  1864,  we  carried  Hawthorne  through 
the  blossoming  orchards  of  Concord,"  says  James  T. 
Fields,  "  and  laid  him  down  under  a  group  of  pines, 
on  a  hillside,  overlooking  historic  fields.  All  the  way 
from  the  village  church  to  the  grave  the  birds  kept 
up  a  perpetual  melody.  The  sun  shone  brightly,  and 
the  air  was  sweet  and  pleasant,  as  if  death  had  never 
entered  the  world.  Longfellow  and  Emerson,  Chan- 
ning  and  Hoar,  Agassiz  and  Lowell,  Greene  and 
Whipple,  Alcott  and  Clarke,  Holmes  and  Hillard,  and 
other  friends  whom  he  loved,  walked  slowly  by  his 
side  that  beautiful  spring  morning.  The  companion 
of  his  youth  and  his  manhood,  for  whom  he  would 


Lexington  and  Concord  243 

willingly,  at  any  time,  have  given  up  his  own  life, 
Franklin  Pierce,  was  there  among  the  rest,  and  scat 
tered  flowers  into  the  grave.  The  unfinished  '  Ro 
mance,'  which  had  cost  him  so  much  anxiety,  the  last 
literary  work  on  which  he  had  ever  been  engaged,  was 
laid  in  his  coffin." 

Eighteen  years  later,  on  April  30,  1882,  Emerson 
was  laid  at  rest  a  little  beyond  Hawthorne  and  Tho- 
reau  in  a  spot  chosen  by  himself. 

A  special  train  came  from  Boston,  but  many  could 
not  get  inside  the  church.  The  town  was  draped; 
"  even  the  homes  of  the  very  poor  bore  outward  marks 
of  grief."  At  the  house,  Dr.  Furness,  of  Philadelphia, 
conducted  the  services.  "  The  body  lay  in  the  front 
northeast  room,  in  which  were  gathered  the  family 
and  close  friends."  The  only  flowers  were  lilies  of  the 
valley,  roses,  and  arbutus. 

At  the  church,  Judge  Hoar,  standing  by  the  coffin, 
spoke  briefly;  Dr.  Furness  read  selections  from  the 
Scriptures ;  James  Freeman  Clarke  delivered  the 
funeral  address,  and  Alcott  read  a  sonnet. 

"  Over  an  hour  was  occupied  by  the  passing  files 
of  neighbors,  friends,  and  visitors  looking  for  the  last 
time  upon  the  face  of  the  dead  poet.  The  body  was 
robed  completely  in  white,  and  the  face  bore  a  natural 
and  peaceful  expression.  From  the  church  the  proces 
sion  took  its  way  to  the  cemetery.  The  grave  was 
made  beneath  a  tall  pine-tree  upon  the  hill-top  of 
Sleepy  Hollow,  where  lie  the  bodies  of  his  friends 
Thoreau  and  Hawthorne,  the  upturned  sod  being 
concealed  by  strewings  of  pine  boughs.  A  border  of 


244  On  an  Automobile 

hemlock  spray  surrounded  the  grave  and  completely 
lined  its  sides.  The  services  were  very  brief,  and  the 
casket  was  soon  lowered  to  its  final  resting-place.  .  .  . 
The  grandchildren  passed  the  open  grave  and  threw 
flowers  into  it." 

In  her  "  Journal,"  Louisa  Alcott  wrote,  "  Thursday, 
27th.  Mr.  Emerson  died  at  nine  P.M.  suddenly.  Our 
best  and  greatest  American  gone.  The  nearest  and 
dearest  friend  father  ever  had,  and  the  man  who  has 
helped  me  most  by  his  life,  his  books,  his  society.  I 
can  never  tell  all  he  has  been  to  me, — from  the  time 
I  sang  Mignon's  song  under  his  window  (a  little  girl) 
and  wrote  letters  a  la  Bettine  to  him,  my  Goethe,  at 
fifteen,  up  through  my  hard  years,  when  his  essays 
on  Self-Reliance,  Character,  Compensation,  Love,  and 
Friendship  helped  me  to  understand  myself  and  life, 
and  God  and  Nature.  Illustrious  and  beloved  friend, 
good-by ! 

"  Sunday,  3oth. — Emerson's  funeral.  I  made  a  yel 
low  lyre  of  jonquils  for  the  church,  and  helped  trim 
it  up.  Private  service  at  the  house,  and  a  great  crowd 
at  the  church.  Father  read  his  sonnet,  and  Judge 
Hoar  and  others  spoke.  Now  he  lies  in  Sleepy  Hollow 
among  his  brothers  under  the  pines  he  loved." 

On  March  4,  1888,  Bronson  Alcott  died,  and  two 
days  later  Louisa  Alcott  followed  her  father.  They  lie 
near  together  on  the  ridge  a  little  beyond  Hawthorne. 
Initials  only  mark  the  graves  of  her  sisters,  but  it  has 
been  found  necessary  to  place  a  small  stone  bearing 
the  name  "  Louisa"  on  the  grave  of  the  author  of 
"  Little  Women."  She  had  made  every  arrangement 
for  her  death,  and  by  her  own  wrish  her  funeral  was  in 


Lexington  and  Concord  245 

her  father's  rooms  in  Boston,  and  attended  by  only  a 
few  of  her  family  and  nearest  friends. 

"  They  read  her  exquisite  poem  to  her  mother,  her 
father's  noble  tribute  to  her,  and  spoke  of  the  earnest 
ness  and  truth  of  her  life.  She  was  remembered  as  she 
would  have  wished  to  be.  Her  body  was  carried  to 
Concord  and  placed  in  the  beautiful  cemetery  of 
Sleepy  Hollow,  where  her  dearest  ones  were  already 
laid  to  rest.  '  Her  boys'  went  beside  her  as  '  a  guard 
of  honor,'  and  stood  around  as  she  was  placed  across 
the  feet  of  father,  mother,  and  sister,  that  she  might 
'  take  care  of  them  as  she  had  done  all  her  life.' ' 

Louisa  Alcott's  last  written  words  were  the  acknowl 
edgment  of  the  receipt  of  a  flower.  "  It  stands  beside 
me  on  Marmee's  (her  mother)  work-table,  and  re 
minds  me  tenderly  of  her  favorite  flowers ;  and  among 
those  used  at  her  funeral  was  a  spray  of  this,  which 
lasted  for  two  weeks  afterwards,  opening  bud  by  bud 
in  the  glass  on  her  table,  where  lay  the  dear  old  '  Jos. 
May'  hymn-book,  and  her  diary  with  the  pen  shut  in  as 
she  left  it  when  she  last  wrote  there,  three  days  before 
the  end,  '  The  twilight  is  closing  about  me,  and  I  am 
going  to  rest  in  the  arms  of  my  children.'  So,  you  see, 
I  love  the  delicate  flower  and  enjoy  it  very  much." 

Reverently,  with  bowed  heads,  we  stood  on  that 
pine-covered  ridge  which  contained  the  mortal  remains 
of  so  many  who  are  great  and  illustrious  in  the  annals 
of  American  literature.  A  scant  patch  of  earth  hides 
their  dust,  but  their  fancies,  their  imaginings,  their 
philosophy  spanned  human  conduct,  emotions,  beliefs, 
and  aspirations  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave. 


246  On  an  Automobile 

The  warm  September  clay  was  drawing  to  a  close; 
the  red  sun  was  sinking  towards  the  west;  the  hill 
top  was  aflame  with  a  golden  glow  from  the  slanting 
rays  of  the  declining  sun.  Slowly  we  wended  our  way 
through  the  shadowy  hollow  below ;  looking  back,  the 
mound  seemed  crowned  with  glory. 

road  Leaving  Concord  by  Main  Street  we  passed  some 
famous  homes,  among  them  Thoreau's  earlier  home, 
where  he  made  lead-pencils  with  the  deftness  which 
characterized  all  his  handiwork;  turning  to  the  left 
on  Thoreau  Street  we  crossed  the  tracks  and  took  the 
Sudbury  road  through  all  the  Sudburys, — four  in 
number;  the  roads  were  good  and  the  country  all 
the  more  interesting  because  not  yet  invaded  by 
the  penetrating  trolley.  It  would  be  sacrilegious  for 
electric  cars  to  go  whizzing  by  the  ancient  tombs 
and  monuments  that  fringe  the  road  down  through 
Sudbury;  the  automobile  felt  out  of  place  and 
instinctively  slowed  down  to  stately  and  measured 
pace. 

In  all  truth,  one  should  walk,  not  ride,  through  this 
beautiful  country,  where  every  highway  has  its  historic 
associations,  every  burying-ground  its  honored  dead, 
every  hamlet  its  weather-beaten  monument.  But  if  one 
is  to  ride,  the  automobile — incongruous  as  it  may  seem 
— has  this  advantage, — it  will  stand  indefinitely  any 
where;  it  may  be  left  by  the  roadside  for  hours;  no 
one  can  start  it;  hardly  any  person  would  maliciously 
harm  it,  providing  it  is  far  enough  to  one  side  so  as  not 
to  frighten  passing  horses ;  excursions  on  foot  may  be 


Lexington  and  Concord  247 

made  to  any  place  of  interest,  then,  when  the  day 
draws  to  a  close,  a  half -hour  suffices  to  reach  the 
chosen  resting-place. 

It  was  getting  dark  as  we  passed  beneath  the  stately    The 
trees  bordering  the  old  post-road  which  leads  to  the 
door  of  the  "  Wayside  Inn." 

Here  the  stages  from  Boston  to  Worcester  used  to 
stop  for  dinner.  Here  Washington,  Lafayette,  Bur- 
goyne,  and  other  great  men  of  Revolutionary  days  had 
been  entertained,  for  along  this  highway  the  troops 
marched  and  countermarched.  The  old  inn  is  rich  in 
historic  associations. 

The  road  which  leads  to  the  very  door  of  the  inn 
is  the  old  post-road;  the  finely  macadamized  State 
road  which  passes  a  little  farther  away  is  of  recent 
dedication,  and  is  located  so  as  to  leave  the  ancient 
hostelry  a  little  retired  from  ordinary  travel. 

A  weather-beaten  sign  with  a  red  horse  rampant    The  Howe 
swings  at  one  corner  of  the  main  building. 

"  Half  effaced  by  rain  and  shine, 
The  Red  Horse  prances  on  the  sign." 

For  nearly  two  hundred  years,  from  1683  to  1860,  the 
inn  was  owned  and  kept  by  one  family,  the  Howes, 
and  was  called  by  many  "  Howe's  Tavern,"  by  others 
"  The  Red  Horse  Inn." 

Since  the  publication  of  Longfellow's  "  Tales  of  a 
Wayside  Inn,"  the  place  has  been  known  by  no  other 
name  than  the  one  it  now  bears. 


248  On  an  Automobile 

"  As  ancient  is  this  hostelry 
As  any  in  the  land  may  be, 
Built  in  the  old  Colonial  day, 
When  men  lived  in  a  grander  way, 
With  ampler  hospitality; 
A  kind  of  old  Hobgoblin  Hall, 
Now  somewhat  fallen  to  decay, 
With  weather-stains  upon  the  wall, 
And  stairways  worn,  and  crazy  doors, 
And  creaking  and  uneven  floors, 
And  chimneys  huge,  and  tiled  and  tall." 

A  portrait  of  Lyman  Howe,  the  last  landlord  of  the 
family,  hangs  in  the  little  bar-room, 

"  A  man  of  ancient  pedigree, 
A  Justice  of  the  Peace  was  he, 
Known  in  all  Sudbury  as  '  The  Squire.' 
Proud  was  he  of  his  name  and  race, 
Of  old  Sir  William  and  Sir  Hugh." 

And  now  as  of  yore 

"  In  the  parlor,  full  in  view, 
His  coat-of-arms,  well  framed  and  glazed, 
Upon  the  wall  in  colors  blazed." 

The  small  window-panes  which  the  poet  describes  as 
bearing 

"  The  jovial  rhymes,  that  still  remain, 
Writ  near  a  century  ago, 
By  the  great  Major  Molineaux, 
Whom  Hawthorne  has  immortal  made," 

are  preserved  in  frames  near  the  mantel  in  the  parlor, 
one  deeply  scratched  by  diamond  ring  with  name  of 
Major  Molineaux  and  the  date,  "  June  24th,  1774," 
the  other  bears  this  inscription, — 


Lexington  and  Concord  249 

"  What  do  you  think  ? 

Here  is  good  drink, 
Perhaps  you  may  not  know  it; 

If  not  in  haste, 

Do  stop  and  taste, 
You  merry  folk  will  show  it." 

A  worthy,  though  not  so  gifted,  successor  of  the   A  true  accomp 
jolly  major  rendered  the  following  "  true  accomp.," 
which,  yellow  and  faded,  hangs  on  the  bar-room  wall : 

"  Thursday,  August  7th,  1777. 
£    s.    d. 

Super  &  Loging 014 

8th.     Brakfast,  Dinar  and 019 

Super  and  half  mug  of  tody      .      .      .026 
9th.     Lodging,  one  glass  rum  half      .      .      .026 

&  Dinar,  one  mes  oats 014 

Super,  half  mug  flyp 030 

loth.     Brakf. — one  dram o     i     8 

Dinner,  Lodging,  horse-keeping      ..020 
one  mug  flyp,  horse  bating  .     .      .      .030 

nth.     horse  keeping i 

I3th.     glass  rum  &  Diner T     8 

i4th.     Horse  bating     .  006 

Horse  Jorney  28  miles o    5  10 


A  true  accomp. — total     ....     i  14    6 

William  Bradford. 
Delivered  to  Capt.  Crosby  .      .      .226 

Alas !  the  major's  inscription  and  the  foregoing 
"  accomp."  are  hollow  mockeries  to  the  thirsty  travel 
ler,  for  there  is  neither  rum  nor  "  flyp"  to  be  had ;  the 
bar  is  dry  as  an  old  cork;  the  door  of  the  cupboard 
into  which  the  jovial  Howes  were  wont  to  stick  the 
awl  with  which  they  opened  bottles  still  hangs,  worn 
completely  through  by  the  countless  jabs,  a  melancholy 


wine 


250  On  an  Automobile 

reminder  of  the  convivial  hours  of  other  days.  The 
restrictions  of  more  abstemious  times  have  relegated 
the  ancient  bar  to  dust,  the  idle  awl  to  slow-consuming 
rust. 

It  is  amazing  how  thirsty  one  gets  in  the  presence  of 
musty  associations  of  a  convivial  character.  The  ghost 
of  a  spree  is  a  most  alluring  fellow ;  it  is  the  dust  on 
the  bottle  that  flavors  the  wine;  a  musty  bin  is  the 
soul's  delight ;  we  drink  the  vintage  and  not  the  wine. 

A  glass  of  Drinking  is  a  lost  art,  eating  a  forgotten  ceremony. 

The  pendulum  has  swung  from  Trimalchio  back  to 
Trimalchio.  Quality  is  lost  in  quantity.  The  tables 
groan,  the  cooks  groan,  the  guests  groan, — feasting  is 
a  nightmare. 

Wine  is  a  subject,  not  a  beverage ;  it  is  discussed,  not 
drunk ;  it  is  sipped,  tasted,  and  swallowed  reluctantly ; 
it  lingers  on  the  palate  in  fragrant  and  delicious  mem 
ory;  it  comes  a  bouquet  and  departs  an  aroma;  it  is 
the  fruition  of  years,  the  distillation  of  ages ;  a  liquid 
jewel,  it  reflects  the  subtle  colors  of  the  rainbow,  run 
ning  the  gamut  from  a  dull  red  glow  to  the  violet  rays 
that  border  the  invisible. 

But,  alas !  the  appreciation  of  wine  is  lost.  Every 
body  serves  wine,  no  one  understands  it ;  everybody 
drinks  it,  no  one  loves  it.  From  a  fragrant  essence 
wine'  has  become  a  coarse  reality, — a  convention. 
Chablis  with  the  oysters,  sherry  with  the  soup,  sauterne 
with  .the  fish,  claret  with  the  roast,  Burgundy  with 
the  game, — champagne  somewhere,  anywhere,  every 
where  ;  port,  grand,  old  ruddy  port — that  has  disap 
peared  ;  no  one  understands  it  and  no  one  knows  when 


Lexington  and  Concord  251 

to  serve  it;  while  Madeira,  that  bloom  of  the  vinous 
century  plant,  that  rare  exotic  which  ripens  with  pass 
ing  generations,  is  all  too  subtle  for  our  untutored  dis 
crimination. 

And  if,  perchance,  a  good  wine,  like  a  strange  guest, 
finds  its  way  to  the  table,  we  are  at  loss  how  to  receive 
it,  how  to  address  it,  how  to  entertain  it.  We  offend  it 
in  the  decanting  and  distress  it  in  the  serving.  We 
buy  our  wines  in  the  morning  and  serve  them  in  the 
evening  to  drink  the  sediment  which  the  more  fastidi 
ous  wine  during  long  years  has  been  slowly  rejecting; 
we  mix  the  bright  transparent  liquid  with  its  dregs  and 
our  rough  palates  detect  no  difference.  But  the  lover 
of  wine,  the  more  he  has  the  less  he  drinks,  until,  in 
the  refinement  and  exaltation  of  his  taste,  it  is  sufficient 
to  look  upon  the  dust-mantled  bottle  and  recall  the 
delicious  aroma  and  flavor,  the  recollection  of  which 
is  far  too  precious  to  risk  by  trying  anew ;  he  knows 
that  if  a  bottle  be  so  much  as  turned  in  its  couch  it 
must  sleep  again  for  years  before  it  is  really  fit  to 
drink ;  he  knows  how  difficult  it  is  to  get  the  wine  out 
of  the  bottle  clear  as  ruby  or  yellow  diamond;  he 
knows  that  if  so  much  as  a  speck  of  sediment  gets  into 
the  decanter,  to  precisely  the  extent  of  the  speck  is  the 
wine  injured. 

In  serving  wines,  we  of  the  Western  world  may 
learn  something  from  the  tea  ceremonies  of  the  Japan 
ese, — ceremonies  so  elaborate  that  to  our  impatient 
notions  they  are  infinitely  tedious,  and  yet  they  get 
from  the  tea  all  the  exquisite  delight  it  contains,  and 
at  the  same  time  invest  its  serving  with  a  halo  of  form, 
tradition,  and  association.  Surely,  if  wine  is  to  be 


252  On  an  Automobile 

taken  at  all,  it  is  as  precious  as  a  cup  of  tea;    and  if 
taken  ceremoniously,  it  will  be  taken  moderately. 

What  is  the  use  of  serving  good  wine?  No  one 
recognizes  it,  appreciates  it,  or  cares  for  it.  It  is  served 
by  the  butler  and  removed  by  the  footman  without 
introduction,  greeting,  or  comment.  The  Hon.  Sam 
Jones,  from  Podunk,  is  announced  in  stentorian  tones 
as  he  makes  his  advent,  but  the  gem  of  the  dinner, 
the  treat  of  the  evening,  the  flower  of  the  feast,  an 
Haut  Brion  of  '75,  or  an  Yquem  of  '64,  or  a  Johannis- 
berger  of  '61,  comes  in  like  a  tramp  without  a  word. 
Possibly  some  one  of  the  guests,  whose  palate  has  not 
been  blunted  by  coarse  living  or  seared  by  strong  drink, 
may  feel  that  he  is  drinking  something  out  of  the  ordi 
nary,  and  he  may  linger  .over  his  glass,  loath  to  sip 
the  last  drop;  but  all  the  others  gulp  their  wine,  or 
leave  it — with  the  indifference  of  ignorance. 

Good  wine  is  loquacious ;  it  is  a  great  traveller  and 
smacks  of  many  lands ;  it  is  a  bon  vivant  and  has  dined 
with  the  select  of  the  earth;  it  recalls  a  thousand 
anecdotes;  it  reeks  with  reminiscences;  it  harbors  a 
kiss  and  reflects  a  glance,  but  it  is  a  silent  companion 
to  those  who  know  it  not,  and  it  is  quarrelsome  with 
those  who  abuse  it. 

It  seemed  a  pity  that  somewhere  about  the  inn,  deep 
in  some  long  disused  cellar,  there  were  not  a  few — 
just  a  few — bottles  of  old  wine,  a  half-dozen  port  of 
1815,  one  or  two  squat  bottles  of  Madeira  brought  over 
by  men  who  knew  Washington,  an  Yquem  of  '48,  a 
Margaux  of  '58,  a  Johannisberger  Cabinet — not  for- 


Lexington  and  Concord  253 

getting  the  "  Auslese" — of  '61,  with  a  few  bottles  of 
Romani  Conti  and  Clos  de  Vougeot  of  '69  or  '70, — 
not  to  exceed  two  or  three  dozen  all  told ;  not  a  plebeian 
among  them,  each  the  chosen  of  its  race,  and  all  so 
well  understood  that  the  very  serving  would  carry  one 
back  to  colonial  days,  when  to  offer  a  guest  a  glass  of 
Madeira  was  a  subtle  tribute  to  his  capacity  and  appre 
ciation. 

It  is  a  far  cry  from  an  imaginary  banquet  with  Boston  baked 
Lucullus  to  the  New  England  Saturday  night  supper  beans 
of  pork  and  beans  which  was  spread  before  us  that 
evening.  The  dish  is  a  survival  of  the  rigid  Puritan 
ism  which  was  the  affliction  and  at  the  same  time  the 
making  of  New  England;  it  is  a  fast,  an  aggravated 
fast,  a  scourge  to  indulgence,  a  reproach  to  gluttony; 
it  comes  Saturday  night,  and  is  followed  Sunday  morn 
ing  by  the  dry,  spongy,  antiseptic,  absorbent  fish-ball 
as  a  castigation  of  nature  and  as  a  preparation  for  the 
austere  observance  of  the  Sabbath ;  it  is  the  harsh,  but 
no  doubt  deserved,  punishment  of  the  stomach  for  its 
worldliness  during  the  week ;  inured  to  suffering,  the 
native  accepts  the  dose  as  a  matter  of  course;  to  the 
stranger  it  seems  unduly  severe.  To  be  sent  to  bed 
supperless  is  one  of  the  terrors  of  childhood ;  to  be  sent 
to  bed  on  pork  and  beans  with  the  certainty  of  fish- 
balls  in  the  morning  is  a  refinement  of  torture  that 
could  have  been  devised  only  by  Puritan  ingenuity. 

At  the  very  crisis  of  the  trouble  in  China,  when  the 
whole  world  was  anxiously  awaiting  news  from  Pekin, 
the  papers  said  that  Boston  was  perturbed  by  the  re 
ported  discovery  in  Africa  of  a  new  and  edible  bean. 


254  On  an  Automobile 

To  New  England  the  bean  is  an  obsession ;  it  is 
rapidly  becoming  a  superstition.  To  the  stranger  it 
is  an  infliction ;  but,  bad  as  the  bean  is  to  the  unini 
tiated,  it  is  a  luscious  morsel  compared  with  the  flavor 
less  cod-fish  ball  which  lodges  in  the  throat  and  stays 
there — a  second  Adam's  apple — for  lack  of  something 
to  wash  it  down. 

If  pork  and  beans  is  the  device  of  the  Puritans,  the 
cod-fish  ball  is  the  invention  of  the  devil.  It  is  as  if 
Satan  looked  on  enviously  while  his  foes  prepared 
their  powder  of  beans,  and  then,  retiring  to  his  bottom 
less  pit,  went  them  one  better  by  casting  his  ball  of 
cod-fish. 

"  But  from  the  parlor  of  the  inn 
A  pleasant  murmur  smote  the  ear, 
Like  water  rushing  through  a  weir ; 
Oft  interrupted  by  the  din 
Of  laughter  and  of  loud  applause. 

"  The  firelight,  shedding  over  all 
The  splendor  of  its  ruddy  glow, 
Filled  the  whole  parlor  large  and  low." 

rhe  "Young  The  room  remains,  but  of  all  that  jolly  company 
which  gathered  in  Longfellow's  days  and  constituted 
the  imaginary  weavers  of  tales  and  romances,  but  one 
is  alive  to-day, — the  "  Young  Sicilian." 

"  A  young  Sicilian,  too,  was  there ; 
In  sight  of  Etna  born  and  bred, 
Some  breath  of  its  volcanic  air 
Was  glowing  in  his  heart  and  brain, 


Lexington  and  Concord  255 

And,  being  rebellious  to  his  liege, 

After  Palermo's  fatal  siege, 

Across  the  western  seas  he  fled, 

In  good  king  Bomba's  happy  reign. 

His  face  was  like  a  summer  night, 

All  flooded  with  a  dusky  light; 

His  hands  were  small ;   his  teeth  shone  white 

As  sea-shells,  when  he  smiled  or  spoke." 

To  the  present  proprietor  of  the  inn  the  "  Young 
Sicilian"  wrote  the  following  letter : 

ROME,  July  4,  1898. 

DEAR  SIR, — In  answer  to  your  letter  of  June  8, 1  am  delighted 
to  learn  that  you  have  purchased  the  dear  old  house  and  care 
fully  restored  and  put  it  back  in  its  old-time  condition.  I 
sincerely  hope  that  it  may  remain  thus  for  a  long,  long  time 
as  a  memento  of  the  days  and  customs  gone  by.  It  is  very 
sad  for  me  to  think  that  I  am  the  only  living  member  of  that 
happy  company  that  used  to  spend  their  summer  vacations 
there  in  the  fifties;  yet  I  still  hope  that  I  may  visit  the  old 
Inn  once  more  before  I  rejoin  those  choice  spirits  whom  Mr. 
Longfellow  has  immortalized  in  his  great  poem.  I  am  glad 
that  some  of  the  old  residents  still  remember  me  when  I  was 
a  visitor  there  with  Dr.  Parsons  (the  Poet),  and  his  sisters, 
one  of  whom,  my  wife,  is  also  the  only  living  member  of  those 
who  used  to  assemble  there.  Both  my  wife  and  I  remember 
well  Mr.  Calvin  Howe,  Mr.  Parmenter,  and  the  others  you 
mention;  for  we  spent  many  summers  there  with  Professor 
Treadwell  (the  Theologian)  and  his  wife,  Mr.  Henry  W. 
Wales  (the  Student),  and  other  visitors  not  mentioned  in 
the  poem,  till  the  death  of  Mr.  Lymari  Howe  (the  Landlord), 
which  broke  up  the  party.  The  "  Musician"  and  the  "  Spanish 
Jew."  though  not  imaginary  characters,  were  never  guests  at 
the  "  Wayside  Inn."  I  remain, 

Sincerely  yours, 
LUIGI  MONTI  (the  "Young  Sicilian"). 


256 


On  an  Automobile 


But  there  was  a  "  Musician,"  for  Ole  Bull  was  once 
a  guest  at  the  Wayside, 

"  Fair-haired,  blue-eyed,  his  aspect  blithe, 
His  figure  tall  and  straight  and  lithe, 
And  every  feature  of  his  face 
Revealing  his  Norwegian  race." 

The  "  Spanish  Jew  from  Alicant"  in  real  life  was 
Israel  Edrehi. 

The  tales  The  Landlord  told  his  tale  of   Paul  Revere;    the 

"  Student"  followed  with  his  story  of  love : 

"  Only  a  tale  of  love  is  mine, 
Blending  the  human  and  divine, 
A  tale  of  the  Decameron,  told 
In  Palmieri's  garden  old." 

And  one  by  one  the  tales  were  told  until  the  last  was 

said. 

"  The  hour  was  late ;    the  fire  burned  low, 
The  Landlord's  eyes  were  closed  in  sleep, 
And  near  the  story's  end  a  deep 
Sonorous  sound  at  times  was  heard, 
As  when  the  distant  bagpipes  blow, 
At  this  all  laughed ;    the  Landlord  stirred, 
As  one  awaking  from  a  swound, 
And,  gazing  anxiously  around, 
Protested  that  he  had  not  slept, 
But  only  shut  his  eyes,  and  kept 
His  ears  attentive  to  each  word. 
Then  all  arose,  and  said  '  Good-Night.' 
Alone  remained  the  drowsy  Squire 
To  rake  the  embers  of  the  fire, 
And  quench  the  waning  parlor  light ; 
While  from  the  windows,  here  and  there, 


Lexington  and  Concord  257 

The  scattered  lamps  a  moment  gleamed, 
And  the  illumined  hostel  seemed 
The  constellation  of  the  Bear, 
Downward,  athwart  the  misty  air, 
Sinking  and  setting  toward  the  sun. 
Far  off  the  village  clock  struck  one." 

Before  leaving  the  next  morning,  we  visited  the  an-  The  ballroom 
cient  ballroom  which  extends  over  the  dining-room. 
It  seemed  crude  and  cruel  to  enter  this  hall  of  bygone 
revelry  by  the  garish  light  of  day.  The  two  fireplaces 
were  cold  and  inhospitable;  the  pen  at  one  end  where 
the  fiddlers  sat  was  deserted;  the  wooden  benches 
which  fringed  the  sides  were  hard  and  forbidding; 
but  long  before  any  of  us  were  born  this  room  was  the 
scene  of  many  revelries ;  the  vacant  hearths  were 
bright  with  flame ;  the  fiddlers  bowed  and  scraped ; 
the  seats  were  filled  with  belles  and  beaux,  and  the 
stately  minuet  was  danced  upon  the  polished  floor. 

The  large  dining-room  and  ballroom  were  added  to 
the  house  something  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago ; 
the  little  old  dining-room  and  old  kitchen  in  the  rear 
of  the  bar  still  remain,  but — like  the  bar — are  no  longer 
used. 

The  brass  name  plates  on  the  bedroom  doors — 
Washington,  Lafayette,  Howe,  and  so  on — have  no 
significance,  but  were  put  on  by  the  present  proprietor 
simply  as  reminders  that  those  great  men  were  once 
beneath  the  roof;  but  in  what  rooms  they  slept  or 
were  entertained,  history  does  not  record. 

The  automobile  \vill  bring  new  life  to  these  deserted 
hostelries.  For  more  than  half  a  century  steam  has 

17 


258  On  an   Automobile 

diverted  their  custom,  carrying  former  patrons  from 
town  to  town  without  the  need  of  half-way  stops  and 
rests.  Coaching  is  a  fad,  not  a  fashion;  it  is  not  to 
be  relied  upon  for  steady  custom;  but  automobiling 
bids  fair  to  carry  the  people  .once  more  into  the  coun 
try,  and  there  must  be  inns  to  receive  them. 

some  new  Already  the  proprietor  was  struggling  with  the 

problem  what  to  do  with  automobiles  and  what  to  do 
for  them  who  drove  them.  He  was  vainly  endeavor 
ing  to  reconcile  the  machines  with  horses  and  house 
them  under  one  roof;  the  experiment  had  already 
borne  fruit  in  some  disaster  and  no  little  discomfort. 

The  automobile  is  quite  willing  to  be  left  out-doors 
over  night ;  but  if  taken  inside  it  is  quite  apt  to  assert 
itself  rather  noisily  and  monopolize  things  to  the  dis 
comfort  of  the  horse.  Stables — to  rob  the  horse  of  the 
name  of  his  home — must  be  provided,  and  these  should 
be  equipped  for  emergencies. 

Every  country  inn  should  have  on  hand  gasoline — 
this  is  easily  stored  outside  in  a  tank  buried  in  the 
ground — and  lubricating  oils  for  steam  and  gasoline 
machines ;  these  can  be  kept  and  sold  in  gallon  cans. 

In  addition  to  supplies  there  should  be  some  tools, 
beginning  with  a  good  jack  strong  enough  to  lift  the 
heaviest  machine,  a  small  bench  and  vise,  files,  chisels, 
punches,  and  one  or  two  large  wrenches,  including  a 
pipe- wrench.  All  these  things  can  be  purchased  for 
little  more  than  a  song,  and  when  needed  they  are 
needed  badly.  But  gasoline  and  lubricating  oils  are 
absolutely  essential  to  the  permanent  prosperity  of  any 
well-conducted  wayside  inn. 


CALLJNG  THE  FEPCV 


CHAPTER   FIFTEEN 

RHODE    ISLAND    AND    CONNECTICUT 

NEXT  morning,  Sunday  the  8th,  we  left  the  inn  at 
eleven  o'clock  for  Providence.  It  was  a  perfect  morn 
ing,  neither  hot  nor  cold,  sun  bright,  and  the  air 
stirring. 

We  took  the  narrow  road  almost  opposite  the  en 
trance  to  the  inn,  climbed  the  hill,  threaded  the  woods, 
and  were  soon  travelling  almost  due  south  through 
Framingham,  Holliston,  Medway,  Franklin,  and  West 
Wrentham  towards  Pawtucket. 

That  route  is  direct,  the  roads  are  good,  the  country 
rolling  and  interesting.  The  villages  come  in  close 

259 


260 


On  an  Automobile 


Good  roads 


Tire  leaking 


Narragansctt 
Pier 


succession ;  there  are  many  quaint  places  and  beautiful 
homes. 

In  this  section  of  Massachusetts  it  does  not  matter 
much  what  roads  are  selected,  they  are  all  good.  Some 
are  macadamized,  more  are  gravelled,  and  where  there 
is  neither  macadam  nor  gravel,  the  roads  have  been  so 
carefully  thrown  up  that  they  are  good ;  we  found  no 
bad  places  at  all,  no  deep  sand,  and  no  rough,  hard 
blue  clay. 

When  we  stopped  for  luncheon  at  a  little  village  not 
far  from  Pawtucket,  the  tire  which  had  been  put  on 
in  Boston  was  leaking  badly.  It  was  the  tire  that  had 
been  punctured  and  sent  to  the  factory  for  repairs, 
and  the  repair  proved  defective.  We  managed  to  get 
to  Pawtucket,  and  there  tried  to  stop  the  leak  with 
liquid  preparations,  but  by  the  time  we  reached  Provi 
dence  the  tire  was  again  flat  and — as  it  proved  after 
wards — ruined. 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  tire,  Narragansett  Pier 
would  have  been  made  that  afternoon  with  ease;  but 
there  was  nothing  to  do  but  wire  for  a  new  tire  and 
await  its  arrival. 

It  was  not  until  half-past  three  .o'clock  Monday  that 
the  new  one  came  from  New  York,  and  it  was  five 
when  we  left  for  the  Pier. 

The  road  from  Providence  to  Narragansett  Pier  is 
something  more  than  fair,  considerably  less  than  fine ; 
it  is  hilly  and  in  places  quite  sandy.  For  some  distance 
out  of  Providence  it  was  dusty  and  worn  rough  by 
heavy  travel. 


Rhode  Island  and  Connecticut     261 

It  was  seven  o'clock,  dark  and  quite  cold,  when  we 
drew  up  in  front  of  Green's  Inn. 

The  season  was  over,  the  Pier  quite  deserted.  A 
summer  resort  after  the  guests  have  gone  is  a  mourn 
ful,  or  a  delightful,  place — as  one  views  it.  To  the  gre 
garious  individual  who  seeks  and  misses  his  kind,  the 
place  is  loneliness  itself  after  the  flight  of  the  gay 
birds  who  for  a  time  strutted  about  in  gorgeous  plu 
mage  twittering  the  time  away ;  to  the  man  who  loves 
to  be  in  close  and  undisturbed  contact  with  nature, 
who  enjoys  communing  with  the  sea,  who  would  be 
alone  on  the  beach  and  silent,  by  the  waves,  the  flight 
of  the  throng  is  a  relief.  There  is  a  selfish  satisfaction 
in  passing  the  great  summer  caravansaries  and  seeing 
them  closed  and  silent ;  in  knowing  that  the  splendor 
of  the  night  will  not  be  marred  by  garish  lights  and 
still  more  garish  sounds. 

Were  it  not  for  the  crowd,  Narragansett  Pier  would 
be  an  ideal  spot  for  rest  and  recreation.  The  beach  is 
perfect, — hard,  firm  sand,  sloping  so  gradually  into 
deep  water,  and  with  so  little  undertow  and  so  few 
dangers,  that  children  can  play  in  the  water  without 
attendants.  The  village  itself  is  inoffensive,  the  coun 
try  about  is  attractive ;  but  the  crowd — the  crowd 
that  comes  in  summer — conies  with  a  rush  almost  to 
the  hour  in  July,  and  takes  flight  with  a  greater  rush 
almost  to  the  minute  in  August, — the  crowd  over 
whelms,  submerges,  ignores  the  natural  charms  of  the 
place,  and  for  the  time  being  nature  hides  its  honest 
head  before  the  onrush'  of  sham  and  illusion. 

Why  do  the  people  come  in  a  week  and  go  in  a  day  ? 
What  is  there  about  Narragansett  that  keeps  every  one 


262  On  an  Automobile 

away  until  a  certain  time  each  year,  attracts  them  for 
a  few  weeks,  and  then  bids  them  off  within  twenty- 
four  hours?  Just  nothing  at  all.  All  attractions  the 
place  has — the  ocean,  the  beach,  the  drives,  the  country 
— remain  the  same;  but  no  one  dares  come  before  the 
appointed  time,  no  one  dares  stay  after  the  flight 
begins;  no  one?  That  is  hardly  true,  for  in  every 
beautiful  spot,  by  the  ocean  and  in  the  mountains, 
there  are  a  few  appreciative  souls  who  know  enough 
to  make  their  homes  in  nature's  caressing  embrace 
while  she  works  for  their  pure  enjoyment  her  won 
drous  panorama  of  changing  seasons.  There  are 
people  who  linger  at  the  sea-shore  until  from  the  steel- 
gray  waters  are  heard  the  first  mutterings  of  ap 
proaching  winter;  there  are  those  who  linger  in  the 
woods  and  mountains  until  the  green  of  summer 
yields  to  the  rich  browns  and  golden  russets  of  au 
tumn,  until  the  honk  of  the  wild  goose  foretells  the 
coming  cold;  these  and  their  kind  are  nature's  truest 
and  dearest  friends;  to  them  does  she  unfold  a  thou 
sand  hidden  beauties;  to  them  does  she  whisper  her 
most  precious  secrets. 

But  the  crowd — the  crowd — the  painted  throng  that 
steps  to  the  tune  of  a  fiddle,  that  hangs  on  the  moods 
of  a  caterer,  whose  inspiration  is  a  good  dinner,  whose 
aspiration  is  a  new  dance, — that  crowd  is  never  missed 
by  any  one  who  really  delights  in  the  manifold  attrac 
tions  of  nature. 

Newport  Not  that  the  crowd  at  Narragansett  is  essentially 

other  than  the  crowd  at  Newport — the  two  do  not 
mix;  but  the  difference  is  one  of  degree  rather  than 


Rhode  Island  and   Connecticut     263 

kind.  The  crowd  at  Newport  is  architecturally  per 
fect,  while  the  crowd  at  Narragansett  is  in  the  adobe 
stage, — that  is  the  conspicuous  difference;  the  one  is 
pretentious  and  lives  in  structures  more  or  less  perma 
nent  ;  the  other  lives  in  trunks,  and  is  even  more 
pretentious.  Neither,  as  a  crowd,  has  more  than  a 
superficial  regard  for  the  natural  charms  of  its  sur 
roundings.  The  people  at  both  places  are  entirely 
preoccupied  with  themselves — and  their  neighbors. 
At  Newport  a  reputation  is  like  an  umbrella — lost, 
borrowed,  lent,  stolen,  but  never  returned.  Some  one 
has  cleverly  said  that  the  American  girl,  unlike  girls 
of  European  extraction,  if  she  loses  her  reputation, 
promptly  goes  and  gets  another, — to  be  strictly  accu 
rate,  she  promptly  goes  and  gets  another's.  What 
a  world  of  bother  could  be  saved  if  a  woman  could 
check  her  reputation  with  her  wraps  on  entering  the 
Casino;  for,  no  matter  how  small  the  reputation,  it 
is  so  annoying  to  have  the  care  of  it  during  social 
festivities  where  it  is  not  wanted,  or  where,  like  dogs, 
it  is  forbidden  the  premises.  Then,  too,  if  the  repu 
tation  happens  to  be  somewhat  soiled,  stained,  or 
tattered, — like  an  old  opera  cloak, — what  woman 
wants  it  about.  It  is  difficult  to  sit  on  it,  as  on  a 
wrap  in  a  theatre ;  it  is  conspicuous  to  hold  in  the 
lap  where  every  one  may  see  its  imperfections ;  per 
haps  the  safest  thing  is  to  do  as  many  a  woman  does, 
ask  her  escort  to  look  out  for  it,  thereby  shifting  the 
responsibility  to  him.  It  may  pass  through  strange 
vicissitudes  in  his  careless  hands, — he  may  drop  it, 
damage  it,  lose  it,  even  destroy  it,  but  she  is  reasonably 
sure  that  when  the  time  comes  he  will  return  her  either 


264 


On  an  Automobile 


Narragansett 

versus 

Newport 


No  room  for 
gossip 


the  old  in  a  tolerable  state  of  preservation,  or  a  new 
one  of  some  kind  in  its  place. 

Narragansett  possesses  this  decided  advantage  over 
Newport,  the  people  do  not  know  each  other  until  it 
is  too  late.  For  six  weeks  the  gay  little  world  moves 
on  in  blissful  ignorance  of  antecedents  and  reputa 
tions  ;  no  questions  are  asked,  no  information  volun 
teered  save  that  disclosed  by  the  hotel  register, — in 
formation  frequently  of  apocryphal  value.  The  gay 
beau  of  the  night  may  be  the  industrious  clerk  of  the 
morrow ;  the  baron  of  the  summer  may  be  the  barber 
of  the  winter;  but  what  difference  does  it  make?  If 
the  beau  beaus  and  the  baron  barons,  is  not  the  femi 
nine  cup  of  happiness  filled  to  overflowing?  the  only 
requisite  being  that  beau  and  baron  shall  preserve 
their  incognito  to  the  end ;  hence  the  season  must  be 
short  in  order  that  no  one's  identity  may  be  discovered. 

At  Newport  every  one  labors  under  the  disadvan 
tage  of  being  known, — for  the  most  part  too  well 
known.  How  painful  it  must  be  to  spend  summer 
after  summer  in  a  world  of  reality,  where  the  truth 
is  so  much  more  thrilling  than  any  possible  fiction  that 
people  are  deprived  of  the  pleasure  of  invention  and 
the  imagination  falls  into  desuetude.  At  Narragan 
sett  every  one  is  veneered  for  the  occasion, — every 
seam,  scar,  and  furrow  is  hidden  by  paint,  powder, 
and  rouge ;  the  duchess  may  be  a  cook,  but  the  count 
who  is  a  butler  gains  nothing  by  exposing  her. 

The  very  conditions  of  existence  at  Newport  de 
mand  the  exposure  of  every  frailty  and  every  folly; 
the  skeleton  must  sit  at  the  feast.  There  is  no  room 


Rhode  Island  and   Connecticut     265 

for  gossip  where  the  facts  are  known.  Nothing  is 
whispered ;  the  megaphone  carries  the  tale.  What  a 
ghastly  society,  where  no  amount  of  finery  hides  the 
bald,  the  literal  truth ;  where  each  night  the  same  ones 
meet  and,  despite  the  vain  attempt  to  deceive  by  out 
ward  appearances,  relentlessly  look  each  other  through 
and  through.  Of  what  avail  is  a  necklace  of  pearls 
or  a  gown  of  gold  against  such  X-ray  vision,  such 
intimate  knowledge  of  one's  past,  of  all  one's  physi 
cal,  mental,  and  moral  shortcomings  ?  The  smile  fades 
from  the  lips,  the  hollow  compliment  dies  on  the 
tongue,  for  how  is  it  possible  to  pretend  in  the  presence 
of  those  who  know? 

At  Narragansett  friends  are  strangers,  in  Newport  Recognition  as 
they  are  enemies ;  in  both  places  the  quality  of  friend 
ship  is  strained.  The  two  problems  of  existence  are, 
Whom  shall  I  recognize?  and,  Wlio  will  recognize 
me?  A  man's  standing  depends  upon  the  women  he 
knows ;  a  woman's  upon  the  women  she  cuts.  At 
a  summer  resort  recognition  is  a  fine  art  which  is 
not  affected  by  any  prior  condition  of  servitude  or 
acquaintance.  No  woman  can  afford  to  sacrifice  her 
position  upon  the  altar  of  friendship;  in  these  small 
worlds  recognition  has  no  relation  whatsoever  to 
friendship,  it  is  rather  a  convention.  If  your  hostess 
of  the  winter  passes  you  with  a  cold  stare,  it  is  a 
matter  of  prudence  rather  than  indifference;  the  out 
side  world  does  not  understand  these  things,  but  is 
soon  made  to. 

Women  are  the  arbiters  of  social  fate,  and  as  such 
must  be  placated,  but  not  too  servilely.  In  society  a 
blow  goes  farther  than  a  kiss ;  it  is  a  warfare  wherein 


266  On  an  Automobile 

it  does  not  pay  to  be  on  the  defensive;  those  are  re 
vered  who  are  most  feared;  those  who  nail  to  their 
mast  the  black  flag  and  show  no  quarter  are  the  recog 
nized  leaders, — Society  is  piracy. 

The  summer  Green's   Inn   was   cheery,   comfortable,   and   hospi 

table;  but  then  the  season  had  passed  and  things  had 
returned  to  their  normal  routine. 

The  summer  hotel  passes  through  three  stages  each 
season, — that  of  expectation,  of  realization,  and  of 
regret;  it  is  unpleasant  during  the  first  stage,  in 
tolerable  during  the  second,  frequently  delightful 
during  the  third.  During  the  first  there  is  a  period 
when  the  host  and  guest  meet  on  a  footing  of  equality ; 
during  the  second  the  guest  is  something  less  than  a 
nonentity,  an  humble  suitor  at  the  monarch's  throne; 
during  the  third  the  conditions  are  reversed,  and  the 
guest  is  lord  of  all  he  is  willing  to  survey.  It  is  con 
ducive  to  comfort  to  approach  these  resorts  during  the 
last  stage, — unless,  of  course,  they  happen  to  be  those 
ephemeral  caravansaries  which  close  in  confusion  on 
the  flight  of  the  crowd;  they  are  never  comfortable. 

The  road  to  The  best  road  from  Boston  to  New  York  is  said  to 

be  by  way  of  Worcester,  Springfield,  and  through 
central  Connecticut  via  Hartford  and  New  Haven ; 
but  we  did  not  care  to  retrace  our  wheels  to  Worcester 
and  Springfield,  and  we  did  want  to  follow  the  shore ; 
but  we  were  warned  by  many  that  after  leaving  the 
Pier  we  would  find  the  roads  very  bad. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  shore  road  from  the  Pier  to 
New  Haven  is  not  good ;  it  is  hilly,  sandy,  and  rough ; 


Rhode  Island  and  Connecticut     267 

but  it  is  entirely  practicable,  and  makes  up  in  beauty 
and  interest  what  it  lacks  in  quality. 

We  did  not  leave  Green's  Inn  until  half-past  nine 
the  morning  after  our  arrival,  and  we  reached  New 
Haven  that  evening  at  exactly  eight, — a  delightful  run 
of  eighty  or  ninety  miles  by  the  road  taken. 

The  road  is  a  little  back  from  the  shore  and  it  is 
anything  but  straight,  winding  in  and  out  in  the  effort 
to  keep  near  the  coast.  Nearly  all  day  long  we  were 
in  sight  of  the  ocean;  now  and  then  some  wooded 
promontory  obscured  our  view;  now  and  then  we 
were  threading  woods  and  valleys  farther  inland ;  now 
and  then  the  road  almost  lost  itself  in  thickets  of 
shrubbery  and  undergrowth,  but  each  time  we  would 
emerge  in  sight  of  the  broad  expanse  of  blue  water 
which  lay  like  a  vast  mirror  on  that  bright  and  still 
September  day. 

We  ferried  across  the  river  to  New  London.  At 
Lyme  there  is  a  very  steep  descent  to  the  Connecticut 
River,  which  is  a  broad  estuary  at  that  point.  The 
ferry  is  a  primitive  side-wheeler,  which  might  carry 
two  automobiles,  but  hardly  more.  It  happened  to  be 
on  the  far  shore.  A  small  boy  pointed  out  a  long  tin 
horn  hanging  on  a  post,  the  hoarse  blast  of  which 
summons  the  sleepy  boat. 

There  was  no  landing,  and  it  seemed  impossible  for 
our  vehicle  to  get  aboard;  but  the  boat  had  a  long 
shovel-like  nose  projecting  from  the  bow  which  ran 
upon  the  shore,  making  a  perfect  gang-plank. 

Carefully  balancing  the  automobile  in  the  centre  so 


268  On   an  Automobile 

as  not  to  list  the  primitive  craft,  we  made  our  way  de 
liberately  to  the  other  side,  the  entire  crew  of  two  men 
— engineer  and  captain — coming  out  to  talk  with  us. 

The  ferries  at  Lyme  and  New  London  would  prove 
great  obstacles  to  anything  like  a  club  from  New  York 
to  Newport  along  this  road ;  the  day  would  be  spent 
in  getting  machines  across  the  two  rivers. 

A  small  boy  It  was  dark  when  we  ran  into  the  city.  This  par 

ticular  visit  to  New  Haven  is  chiefly  memorable  for 
the  exceeding  good  manners  of  a  boy  of  ten,  who 
watched  the  machine  next  morning  as  it  was  prepared 
for  the  day's  ride,  offered  to  act  as  guide  to  the  place 
where  gasoline  was  kept,  and,  with  the  grace  of  a 
Chesterfield,  made  good  my  delinquent  purse  by  pay 
ing  the  bill.  It  was  all  charmingly  and  not  preco 
ciously  done.  This  little  man  was  well  brought  up, — 
so  well  brought  up  that  he  did  not  know  it. 

The  automobile  is  a  pretty  fair  touchstone  to  man 
ners  for  both  young  and  old.  A  man  is  himself  in  the 
presence  of  the  unexpected.  The  automobile  is  so 
strange  that  it  carries  people  off  their  equilibrium, 
and  they  say  and  do  things  impulsively,  and  therefore 
naturally. 

The  odd-looking,,  stranger  is  ever  treated  with  scant 
courtesy  and  unbecoming  curiosity;  the  strange  ma 
chine  fares  no  better.  The  man  or  the  boy  who  is  not 
unduly  curious,  not  unduly  aggressive,  not  unduly 
loquacious,  not  unduly  insistent,  who  preserves  his 
poise  in  the  presence  of  an  automobile,  is  quite  out 
of  the  ordinary, — my  little  New  Haven  friend  was  of 
that  sort. 


Rhode  Island  and  Connecticut     269 

It  is   a  beautiful   ride   from   New   Haven  to   New   New  Haven  to 
York,  and  to  it  we  devoted  the  entire  day,  from  half- 
past  eight  until  half -past  seven. 

At  Norwalk  the  people  were  celebrating  the  two 
hundred  and  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  founding  of 
the  town;  the  hotel  where  we  dined  may  have  ante 
dated  the  town  a  century  or  two. 

Later  in  the  afternoon,  while  wheeling  along  at 
twenty  miles  an  hour,  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  sign 
post  pointing  to  the  left  and  reading,  "  To  Sound 
Beach."  The  name  reminded  us  of  friends  who  were 
spending  a  few  weeks  there ;  we  turned  back  and 
made  them  a  flying  call. 

Again  a  little  farther  on  we  stopped  for  gaso 
line  in  a  dilapidated  little  village,  and  found  it  was 
Mianus,  which  we  recalled  as  the  home  of  an  artist 
whose  paintings,  full  of  charm  and  tender  sentiment, 
have  spread  the  fame  of  the  locality  and  river.  It  was 
only  a  short  run  of  two  or  three  miles  to  the  orchard 
and  hill  where  he  has  his  summer  home,  and  we  re 
newed  an  acquaintance  made  several  years  before. 

It  is  interesting  to  follow  an  artist's  career  and  note  An  artist's 
the  changes  in  manner  and  methods ;    for  changes  are  c 
inevitable ;    they  come  to  high  and  low  alike.     The 
artist  may  not  be  conscious  that  he  no  longer  sees 
things  and  paints  things  as  he  did,  but  time  tells  and 
the  truth  is  patent  to  others.     But  changes  of  manner 
and    changes    of   method    are    fundamentally    unlike. 
Furthermore,   changes   of   either   manner   or   method 
may  be  unconscious   and   natural,   or   conscious   and 
forced. 


270  On  an  Automobile 

For  the  most  part,  an  artist's  manner  changes  natu 
rally  and  unconsciously  with  his  environment  and 
advancing  years;  but  in  the  majority  of  instances 
changes  in  method  are  conscious  and  forced,  made 
deliberately  with  the  intention — frequently  missed — 
of  doing  better.  One  painter  is  impressed  with  the 
success  of  another  and  strives  to  imitate,  adopts  his 
methods,  his  palette,  his  key,  his  color  scheme,  his 
brush  work,  and  so  on; — these  conscious  efforts  of 
imitation  usually  result  in  failures  which,  if  not  im 
mediately  conspicuous,  soon  make  their  shortcomings 
felt;  the  note  being  forced  and  unnatural,  it  does  not 
ring  true. 

influence  of  A  man  may  visit  Madrid  without  imitating  Velas- 

environment  1  «..__,  .  . 

quez ;  he  may  live  in  Harlem  without  consciously 
yielding  to  Franz  Hals ;  he  may  spend  days  with 
Monet  without  surrendering  his  independence ;  but 
these  strong  contacts  will  work  their  subtle  effects 
upon  all  impressionable  natures ;  the  effects,  however, 
may  be  wrought  unconsciously  and  frequently  against 
the  sturdy  opposition  of  an  original  nature. 

No  painter  could  live  for  a  season  in  Madrid  with 
out  being  affected  by  the  work  of  Velasquez ;  he  might 
strive  against  the  influence,  fight  to  preserve  his  own 
eccentric  originality  and  independence,  but  the  very 
fact  that  for  the  time  being  he  is  confronted  with  a 
force,  an  influence,  is  sufficient  to  affect  his  own  work, 
whether  he  accepts  the  influence  reverentially  or  re 
jects  it  scoffingly. 

There  is  infinitely  more  hope  for  the  man  who  goes 
to  Madrid,  or  any  other  shrine,  in  a  spirit  of  opposi- 


Rhode  Island  and  Connecticut     271 

tion, — supremely  egotistical,  supremely  confident  of 
his  own  methods,  disposed  to  belittle  the  teaching  and 
example  of  others, — than  there  is  for  the  man  who 
goes  to  servilely  copy  and  imitate.  The  disposition 
to  learn  is  a  good  thing,  but  in  all  walks  of  life,  as 
well  as  in  art,  it  may  be  carried  too  far.  No  man 
should  surrender  his  individuality,  should  yield  that 
within  him  which  is  peculiarly  and  essentially  his  own. 
An  urchin  may  dispute  with  a  Plato,  if  the  urchin 
sticks  to  the  things  he  knows. 

Between  the  lawless  who  defy  all  authority  and  the  servile 

,  11      •     n  1  1         submission 

servile  who  submit  to  all  influences,  there  are  the 
chosen  few  wrho  assert  themselves,  and  at  the  same 
time  clearly  appreciate  the  strength  of  those  who 
differ  from  them.  The  urchin  painter  may  assert  him 
self  in  the  presence  of  Velasquez,  providing  he  keeps 
within  the  limits  of  his  own  originality. 

It  is  for  those  who  buy  pictures  to  look  out  for  the 
man  who  arbitrarily  and  suddenly  changes  his  manner 
or  method;  he  is  as  a  cork  tossed  about  on  the  sur 
face  of  the  waters,  drifting  with  every  breeze,  sub 
merged  by  every  ripple,  fickle  and  unstable;  if  his 
work  possess  any  merit,  it  will  be  only  the  cheap 
merit  of  cleverness ;  its  brilliancy  will  be  simply  the 
gloss  of  dash. 

It  requires  time  to  absorb  an  impression.  Distance 
diminishes  the  force  of  attraction.  The  best  of  paint 
ers  will  not  regain  immediately  his  equilibrium  after 
a  winter  in  Florence  or  in  Rome.  The  enthusiasm  of 
the  hour  may  bring  forth  some  good  pictures,  but  the 
effect  of  the  impression  will  be  too  pronounced,  the 


272  On  an  Automobile 

copy  will  be  too  evident.  Time  and  distance  will 
modify  an  impression  and  lessen  the  attraction;  the 
effect  will  remain,  but  no  longer  dominate. 

New  York  by          It  was  so  dark  we  could  scarcely  see  the  road  as  we 
approached  New  York. 

How  gracious  the  mantle  of  night;  like  a  veil  it 
hides  all  blemishes  and  permits  only  fair  outlines  to 
be  observed.  Details  are  lost  in  vast  shadows;  huge 
buildings  loom  up  vaguely  towards  the  heavens,  im 
pressive  masses  of  masonry;  the  bridges,  outlined  by 
rows  of  electric  lights,  are  strings  of  pearls  about  the 
throat  of  the  dusky  river.  The  red,  white,  and  green 
lights  of  invisible  boats  below  are  so  many  colored 
glow-worms  crawling  about,  while  the  countless  lights 
of  the  vast  city  itself  are  as  if  a  constellation  from 
above  had  settled  for  the  time  being  on  the  earth 
beneath. 

Night  It  is  by  night  that  the  earth  communes  with  the  uni 

verse.  During  the  blinding  brightness  of  the  day  our 
vision  penetrates  no  farther  than  our  own  great  sun ; 
but  at  night,  when  our  sun  has  run  its  course  across 
the  heavens,  and  we  are  no  longer  dazzled  by  its  over 
powering  brilliancy,  the  suns  of  other  worlds  come 
forth  one  by  one  until,  as  the  darkness  deepens,  the 
vault  above  is  dotted  with  these  twinkling  lights.  Dim, 
distant,  beacons  of  suns  and  planets  like  our  own, 
what  manner  of  life  do  they  contain  ?  what  are  we  to 
them?  what  are  they  to  us?  Is  there  aught  between 
us  beyond  the  mechanical  laws  of  repulsion  and 
attraction?  Is  there  any  medium  of  communication 


Rhode   Island  and   Connecticut     273 

beyond  the  impalpable  ether  which  brings  their  light? 
Are  we  destined  to  know  each  other  better  by  and  by, 
or  does  our  knowledge  forever  end  with  what  we  see 
on  a  cloudless  night? 

It  wras  Wednesday  evening,  September  n,  when  we  The Endm - 
arrived  in  New  York.  The  Endurance  Contest  or 
ganized  by  the  Automobile  Club  of  America  had 
started  for  Buffalo  on  Monday  morning,  and  the 
papers  each  day  contained  long  accounts  of  the  heart 
breaking  times  the  eighty-odd  contestants  were  having, 
—hills,  sand,  mud,  worked  havoc  in  the  ranks  of  the 
faithful,  and  by  midweek  the  automobile  stations 
in  New  York  were  crowded  with  sick  and  wounded 
veterans  returning  from  the  fray. 

The  stories  told  by  those  who  participated  in  that   Automobile 
now  famous  run  possessed  the  charm  of  novelty,  the   3 
absorbing  fascination  of  fiction. 

Once  upon  a  time,  two  fishermen,  who  were  mod 
estly  relating  exploits,  paused  to  listen  to  three  chauf 
feurs  who  began  exchanging  experiences.  After  lis 
tening  a  short  time,  the  fishermen,  hats  in  hand,  went 
over  to  the  chauffeurs  and  said,  "  On  behalf  of  the 
Ancient  and  Honorable  Order  of  Fishermen,  which 
from  time  immemorial  has  held  the  palm  for  large, 
generous,  and  unrestricted  stories  of  exploits,  we  con 
fess  the  inadequacy  of  our  qualifications,  the  bald 
literalness  of  our  narratives,  the  sober  and  unadorned 
realism  of  our  tales,  and  abdicate  in  favor  of  the  new 
and  most  promising  Order  of  Chauffeurs ;  may  the 
blessing  of  Ananias  rest  upon  you." 

18 


274  On  an  Automobile 

It  is  not  that  those  who  go  down  the  pike  in  auto 
mobiles  intend  to  prevaricate,  or  even  exaggerate,  but 
the  experience  is  so  extraordinary  that  the  truth  is 
inadequate  for  expression  and  explanation.  It  seems 
quite  impossible  to  so  adjust  our  perceptions  as  to  re 
ceive  strictly  accurate  impressions;  therefore,  when 
one  man  says  he  went  forty  miles  an  hour,  and  another 
says  he  went  sixty,  the  latter  assertion  is  based  not 
upon  the  exact  speed, — for  that  neither  knows, — but 
upon  the  belief  of  the  second  man  that  he  went  much 
faster  than  the  other.  The  exact  speeds  were  prob 
ably  about  ten  and  fifteen  miles  an  hour  respectively ; 
but  the  ratio  is  preserved  in  forty  and  sixty,  and  the 
listening  layman  is  deeply  impressed,  while  no  one  who 
knows  anything  about  automobiling  is  for  a  moment 
deceived.  At  the  same  time,  in  fairness  to  guests  and 
strangers  within  the  gates,  each  club  ought  to  post 
conspicuously  the  rate  of  discount  on  narratives,  for 
not  only  do  clubs  vary  in  their  departures  from  literal 
truth,  but  the  narratives  are  greatly  affected  by  seasons 
and  events;  for  instance,  after  the  Endurance  Con 
test  the  discount  rate  in  the  Automobile  Club  of 
America  was  exceedingly  high. 

veracity  Every  man  who  started  finished  ahead  of  the  others, 

— except  those  who  never  intended  to  finish  at  all. 
Each  man  went  exactly  as  far  as  he  intended  to  go, 
and  then  took  the  train,  road,  or  ditch  home.  Some 
intended  to  go  as  far  as  Albany,  others  to  Frank 
fort,  while  quite  a  large  number  entered  the  contest 
for  the  express  purpose  of  getting  off  in  the  mud  and 


Rhode  Island  and   Connecticut     275 

walking  to  the  nearest  village ;    a  few,  a  very  few, 
intended  to  go  as  far  as  Buffalo. 

At  one  time  or  another  each  made  a  mile  a  minute, 
and  a  much  higher  rate  of  speed  would  have  been 
maintained  throughout  had  it  not  been  necessary  to 
identify  certain  towns  in  passing.  Nothing  happened 
to  any  machine,  but  one  or  two  required  a  little  oiling, 
and  several  were  abandoned  by  the  roadside  because 
their  occupants  had  stubbornly  determined  to  go  no 
farther.  One  man  who  confessed  that  a  set-screw  in 
his  goggles  worked  loose  was  expelled  from  the  club 
as  too  matter-of-fact  to  be  eligible  for  membership, 
and  the  maker  of  the  machine  he  used  sent  four-page 
communications  to  each  trade  paper  explaining  that 
the  loosening  of  the  set-screw  was  due  to  no  defect  in 
the  machine,  but  was  entirely  the  fault  of  the  driver, 
who  jarred  the  screw  loose  by  winking  his  eye. 

Each  machine  surmounted  Nelson  Hill  like  a  bird, — 
or  would  have,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  machine  in 
front.  There  were  those  who  would  have  made  the 
hill  in  forty-two  seconds  if  they  had  not  wasted  valu 
able  time  in  pushing.  The  pitiful  feat  of  the  man 
who  crawled  up  at  the  rate  of  seventeen  miles  an 
hour  was  quite  discounted  by  the  stories  of  those  who 
would  have  made  it  in  half  that  time  if  their  power 
had  not  oozed  out  in  the  first  hundred  yards. 

Then  there  was  mud  along  the  route,  deep  mud.    vicissitudes 
According  to  accounts,  which  were  eloquently  verified 
by  the  silence  of  all  who  listened,  the  mud  was  hub 
deep   everywhere,   and   in   places   the   machines   were 
quite  out  of  sight,  burrowing  like  moles.     Some  took 


276  On  an  Automobile 

to  the  tow-path  along  the  canal,  others  to  trolley  lines 
and  telegraph  wires. 

Each  man  ran  his  own  machine  without  the  slightest 
expert  assistance ;  the  men  in  over-alls  with  kits  of 
tools  lurking  along  the  roadside  were  modern  brigands 
seeking  opportunities  for  hold-ups  ;  now  and  then  they 
would  spring  out  upon  an  unoffending  machine,  knock 
it  into  a  state  of  insensibility,  and  abuse  it  most  un 
mercifully.  A  number  of  machines  were  shadowed 
throughout  the  run  by  these  rascals,  and  several  did 
not  escape  their  clutches,  but  perished  miserably.  In 
one  instance  a  babe  in  arms  drove  one  machine  sixty- 
two  miles  an  hour  with  one  hand,  the  other  being 
occupied  with  a  nursing-bottle. 

There  were  one  hundred  and  fifty-six  dress-suit 
cases  on  the  run,  but  only  one  was  used,  and  that  to 
sit  on  during  high  tide  in  Herkimer  County,  where  the 
mud  was  deepest. 

It  would  be  quite  superfluous  to  relate  additional 
experience  tales,  but  enough  has  been  told  to  illustrate 
the  necessity  of  a  narrative  discount  notice  in  all 
places  where  the  clans  gather.  All  men  are  liars,  but 
some  intend  to  lie, — to  their  credit,  be  it  said,  chauf 
feurs  are  not  among  the  latter. 


POH  THE  CHAT- 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN 

ANARCHISM 


DURING  these  days  the  President  was  dying  in  Buf 
falo,  though  the  country  did  not  know  it  until  Friday. 

Wednesday  and  Thursday  the  reports  were  so  as 
suring  that  all  danger  seemed  past;  but,  as  it  turned 
out  afterwards,  there  was  not  a  moment  from  the  hour 
of  the  shooting  when  the  fatal  processes  of  dissolution 
were  not  going  on.  Not  only  did  the  resources  of 
surgery  and  medicine  fail  most  miserably,  but  their 
gifted  prophets  were  unable  to  foretell  the  end.  Bul 
letins  of  the  most  reassuring  character  turned  out 
absolutely  false.  After  it  was  all  over,  there  was  a 

277 


278  On  an   Automobile 

great  deal  of  explanation  how  it  occurred  and  that 
it  was  inevitable  from  the  beginning;  but  the  public 
did  not,  and  does  not,  understand  how  the  learned 
doctors  could  have  been  so  mistaken  Wednesday  and 
so  wise  Friday;  and  yet  the  explanation  is  simple,— 
medicine  is  an  art  and  surgery  far  from  an  exact 
science.  No  one  so  well  as  the  doctors  knows  how 
impossible  it  is  to  predict  anything  with  any  degree 
of  assurance;  how  uncertain  the  outcome  of  simple 
troubles  and  wounds  to  say  nothing  of  serious;  how 
much  nature  will  do  if  left  to  herself,  how  obstinate 
she  often  proves  when  all  the  skill  of  man  is  brought 
to  her  assistance. 

The  angei  of  On  Friday  evening,  and  far  into  the  night,  Herald 
Square  was  filled  with  a  surging  throng  watching  the 
bulletins  from  the  chamber  of  death.  It  was  a  dig 
nified  end.  There  must  have  been  a  good  deal  of 
innate  nobility  in  William  McKinley.  With  all  his 
vacillation  and  infirmity  of  political  purpose,  he  must 
have  been  a  man  whose  mind  was  saturated  with  fine 
thoughts,  for  to  the  very  last,  in  those  hours  of  weak 
ness  when  the  will  no  longer  sways  and  each  word  is 
the  half-unconscious  muttering  of  the  true  self,  he 
shone  forth  with  unexpected  grandeur  and  died  a 
hero. 

Late  in  the  evening  a  bulletin  announced  that  when 
the  message  of  death  came  the  bells  would  toll.  In 
the  midst  of  the  night  the  city  was  roused  by  the 
solemn  pealing  of  great  bells,  and  from  the  streets  be 
low  there  came  the  sounds  of  flying  horses,  of  moving 
feet,  of  cries  and  voices.  It  seemed  as  if  the  city  had 


Anarchism  279 

been  held  in  check  and  was  now  released  to  express 
itself  in  its  own  characteristic  way.  The  wave  of 
sound  radiated  from  each  newspaper  office  and  pene 
trated  the  most  deserted  street,  the  most  secret  alley, 
telling  the  people  of  the  death  of  their  President. 

Anarchy  achieved  its  greatest  crime  in  the  murder 
of  President  McKinley  while  he  held  the  hand  of  his 
assassin  in  friendly  grasp. 

Little  wonder  this  country  was  roused  as  never  be 
fore,  and  at  this  moment  the  civilized  world  is  dis 
cussing  measures  for  the  suppression,  the  obliteration, 
of  anarchists,  but  we  must  take  heed  lest  we  over 
shoot  the  mark. 

Three   Presidents — Lincoln,   Garfield,   and   McKin-    Three 
ley— have  been  assassinated,  but  only  the  last  as  the   *«****«&** 
result  of  anarchistic  teachings.     The  crime  of  Booth 
had  nothing  to  do  with  anarchy;    the  crime  of  half 
witted  Guiteau  had  nothing  to  do  with  anarchy;    but 
the   deliberate   crime   of   the   cool   and   self-possessed 
Czolgoscz  was  the  direct  outcome  of  the  "  propaganda 
of  action." 

Because,  therefore,  three  Presidents  have  been  as 
sassinated,  we  must  not  link  the  crimes  together  and 
unduly  magnify  the  dangers  of  anarchy.  At  most  the 
two  early  crimes  could  only  serve  to  demonstrate  how 
easy  it  is  to  reach  and  kill  a  President  of  the  United 
States,  and  therefore  the  necessity  for  greater  safe 
guards  about  his  person  is  trebly  demonstrated.  The 
habit  of  handshaking,  at  best,  has  little  to  recommend 
it ;  with  public  men  it  is  a  custom  without  excuse. 
The  notion  that  men  in  public  life  must  receive  and 


280 


On   an  Automobile 


mingle  with  great  masses  of  people,  or  run  the  risk 
of  being  called  undemocratic,  is  a  relic  of  the  political 
dark  ages.  The  President  of  the  United  States  is  an 
executive  official,  not  a  spectacle;  he  ought  to  be  a 
very  busy  man,  just  a  plain,  hard-working  servant  of 
the  people, — that  is  the  real  democratic  idea.  There 
is  not  the  slightest  need  for  him  to  expose  himself  to 
assault.  In  the  proper  performance  of  his  duties  he 
ought  to  keep  somewhat  aloof.  The  people  have  the 
right  to  expect  that  in  their  interest  he  will  take  good 
care  of  himself. 


Anarchism  in 
the  abstract 


The  seed 


As  for  anarchism,  that  is  a  political  theory  that 
possesses  the  minds  of  a  certain  number  of  men,  some 
of  them  entirely  inoffensive  dreamers,  and  anarchism 
as  a  theory  can  no  more  be  suppressed  by  law  than 
can  any  other  political  or  religious  theory.  The  law  is 
efficacious  against  acts,  but  powerless  against  notions. 
But  anarchism  in  the  abstract  is  one  thing  and  an 
archism  in  the  concrete  is  another.  It  is  one  thing  to 
preach  anarchy  as  the  final  outcome  of  progress,  it  is 
quite  another  thing  to  preach  anarchy  as  a  present  rule 
of  conduct.  The  distinction  must  be  observed,  for 
while  the  law  is  helpless  against  theories,  it  is  potent 
against  the  practical  application  of  theories. 

In  a  little  book  called  "  Politics  for  Young  Ameri 
cans,"  written  with  most  pious  and  orthodox  intent  by 
the  late  Charles  Nordhoff,  the  discussion  of  govern 
ment  begins  with  the  epigram, — by  no  means  original 
with  Nordhoff, — "  Governments  are  necessary  evils." 

Therein  lurks  the  germ  of  anarchism, — for  if  evil, 


Anarchism  281 

why  should  governments  be  necessary?  The  anarchist 
is  quick  to  admit  the  evil,  but  denies  the  necessity ; 
and,  in  sooth,  if  government  is  an  evil,  then  the  sooner 
it  is  dispensed  with  the  better. 

When  Huxley  defines  anarchy  as  that  "  state  of 
society  in  which  the  rule  of  each  individual  by  himself 
is  the  only  government  the  legitimacy  of  which  is  rec 
ognized,"  and  then  goes  on  to  say,  "  in  this  sense, 
strict  anarchy  may  be  the  highest  conceivable  grade  of 
perfection  of  social  existence ;  for,  if  all  men  spon 
taneously  did  justice  and  loved  mercy,  it  is  plain  that 
the  swords  might  advantageously  be  turned  into 
ploughshares,  and  that  the  occupation  of  judges  and 
police  would  be  gone,"  he  lends  support  to  the  theo 
retical  anarchist.  For  if  progress  means  the  gradual 
elimination  of  government  and  the  final  supremacy  of 
the  individual,  then  the  anarchist  is  simply  the  prophet 
who  keeps  in  view  and  preaches  the  end.  If  anarchy 
is  an  ideal  condition,  there  always  will  be  idealists  who 
will  advocate  it. 

But  government  is  necessary,  and  just  because  it  is    Government 
necessary  therefore  it  cannot  be  an  evil.    Hospitals  are  1lot ""  evi1 
necessary,  and  just  because  they  are  necessary  there 
fore  they  cannot  be  evils.     Places  for  restraining  the 
insane  and  criminal  are  necessary,  and  therefore  not 
evil. 

The  weaknesses  of  humanity  may  occasion  these 
necessities ;  but  the  evil,  if  any,  is  inherent  in  the  con 
stitution  of  man  and  not  in  the  social  organization.  It 
is  the  individual  and  not  society  that  has  need  of 
government,  of  hospitals,  of  asylums,  of  prisons. 


282  On  an  Automobile 

Anarchy  does  not  involve,  as  Huxley  suggests,  "  the 
highest  conceivable  grade  of  perfection  of  social  exist 
ence/'  Not  at  all.  What  it  does  involve  is  the  high 
est  conceivable  grade  of  individual  existence;  in  fact, 
of  a  grade  so  high  that  it  is  quite  beyond  conception, 
— in  short,  it  involves  human  perfectibility.  Anarchy 
proper  involves  the  complete  emancipation  of  every 
individual  from  all  restraints  and  compulsions ;  it  in 
volves  a  social  condition  wherein  absolutely  no  au 
thority  is  imposed  upon  any  individual,  where  no 
requirement  of  any  kind  is  made  against  the  will  of 
any  member — man,  woman,  or  child;  where  every 
thing  is  left  to  individual  initiation. 

Anarchy  a  So  far  from  such  a  "  state  of  society"  being  "  the 

dreary  scheme  higjiest  conceivable  grade  of  perfection  of  social  exist 
ence,"  it  is  not  conceivable  at  all,  and  the  farther  the 
mind  goes  in  attempting  to  grasp  it,  the  more  hope 
lessly  dreary  does  the  scheme  become. 

When  men  spontaneously  do  justice  and  love  mercy, 
as  Huxley  suggests,  and  when  each  individual  is 
mentally,  physically,  and  morally  sound,  as  he  must  be 
to  support  and  govern  himself,  then,  and  not  till  then, 
will  it  be  possible  to  dispense  with  government;  but 
even  then  it  is  more  conceivable  than  otherwise  that 
these  perfect  individuals  would — as  a  mere  division 
of  labor,  as  a  mere  matter  of  economy — adopt  and 
enforce  some  rules  and  regulations  for  the  benefit  of 
all ;  it  would  be  necessary  to  do  so  unless  the  indi 
viduals  were  not  only  perfect,  but  also  absolutely 
of  one  mind  on  all  subjects  relating  to  their  wel 
fare.  Can  the  imagination  picture  existence  more 
inane  ? 


Anarchism  283 

But  regardless  of  what  the  mentally,  physically,  and 
morally  perfect  individuals  might  do  after  attaining 
their  perfection,  anarchy  assumes  the  millennium, — 
and  the  millennium  is  yet  a  long  way  off.  If  the  future 
of  anarchy  depends  upon  the  physical,  mental,  and 
moral  perfection  of  its  advocates,  the  outlook  is  gloomy 
indeed,  for  a  theory  never  had  a  following  more  im 
perfect  in  alt  these  respects. 

The  patent   fact  that  most  governments,   both   na-    The  evils  of 
tional    and    local,    are    corruptly,    extravagantly,    and  z°vernment 
badly  administered  tends  to  obscure  our  judgment,  so 
that  wre  assent,  without  thinking,  to  the  proposition 
that  government  is  an  evil,  and  then  argue  that  it  is 
a  necessary  evil.     But  government  is  not  evil  because 
there  are  evils  incidental  to  its  administration.     Every 
human  institution  partakes  of  the  frailties  of  the  indi 
vidual  ;   it  could  not  be  otherwise  ;   all  social  institutions 
are  human,  not  superhuman. 

With  progress  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  there  will  be 
fewer  wars,  fewer  crimes,  fewer  wrongs,  so  that  gov 
ernment  will  have  less  and  less  to  do  and  drop  many 
of  its  functions, — that  is  the  sort  of  anarchy  every 
one  hopes  for;  that  is  the  sort  of  anarchy  the  late 
Phillips  Brooks  had  in  mind  when  he  said,  "  He  is  the 
benefactor  of  his  race  who  makes  it  possible  to  have 
one  law  less.  He  is  the  enemy  of  his  kind  who  would 
lay  upon  the  shoulders  of  arbitrary  government  one 
burden  which  might  be  carried  by  the  educated  con 
science  and  character  of  the  community." 

But  assume  that  war  is  no  more  and  armies  are 
disbanded ;  that  crimes  are  no  more  and  police  are 


284  On  an  Automobile 

dismissed ;    that  wrongs  are  no  more  and  courts  are 
dissolved, — what  then  ? 

My  neighbor  becomes  slightly  insane,  is  very  noisy 
and  threatening;  my  wife  and  children,  who  are  ter 
rorized,  wish  him  restrained ;  but  his  friends  do  not 
admit  that  he  is  insane,  or,  admitting  his  peculiarities, 
insist  my  family  and  I  ought  to  put  up  with  them  ; 
the  man  himself  is  quite  sane  enough  to  appreciate  the 
discussion  and  object  to  any  restraint.  Now,  who 
shall  decide?  Suppose  the  entire  community — save 
the  man  and  one  or  two  sympathizing  cranks — is 
clearly  of  the  opinion  the  man  is  insane  and  should 
be  restrained,  who  is  to  decide  the  matter?  and  when 
it  is  decided,  who  is  to  enforce  the  decision  by  im 
posing  the  authority  of  the  community  upon  the  indi 
vidual  ?  If  the  community  asserts  its  authority  in  any 
manner  or  form,  that  is  government. 

Some  queries  If  every  institution,  including  government,  were 
abolished  to-morrow,  the  percentage  of  births  that 
would  turn  out  blind,  crippled,  and  feeble  both  men 
tally  and  physically,  wayward,  eccentric,  and  insane 
would  continue  practically  the  same,  and  the  com 
munity  would  be  obliged  to  provide  institutions  for 
these  unfortunates,  the  community  would  be  obliged 
to  patrol  the  streets  for  them,  the  community  would 
be  obliged  to  pass  upon  their  condition  and  support 
or  restrain  them ;  in  short,  the  abolished  institutions 
— including  tribunals  of  some  kind,  police,  prisons, 
asylums — would  be  promptly  restored. 

The  anarchist  would  argue  that  all  this  may  be  done 
by  voluntary  association  and  without  compulsion ;  but 


error 


Anarchism  285 

the  man  arrested,  or  confined  in  the  insane  asylum 
against  his  will,  would  be  of  a  contrary  opinion.  The 
debate  might  involve  his  friends  and  sympathizers 
until  in  every  close  case — as  now — the  community 
would  be  divided  in  hostile  camps,  one  side  urging  re 
lease  of  the  accused,  the  other  urging  his  detention. 
Who  is  to  hold  the  scale  and  decide? 

The  fundamental  error  of  anarchists,  and  of  most  A  fundamental 
theorists  who  discuss  "  government"  and  "  the  state," 
lies  in  the  tacit  assumption  that  "  government"  and 
"  the  state"  are  entities  to  be  dealt  with  quite  apart 
from  the  individual ;  that  both  may  be  modified  or 
abolished  by  laws  or  resolutions  to  that  effect. 

If  anything  is  clearly  demonstrated  as  true,  it  is 
that  both  "  government"  and  "  the  state"  have  been 
evolved  out  of  our  own  necessities ;  neither  was  im 
posed  from  without,  but  both  have  been  evolved  from 
within ;  both  are  forms  of  co-operation.  For  the  time 
being  the  "  state"  and  "  government,"  as  well  as  the 
'"  church"  and  all  human  institutions,  may  be  modified 
or  seemingly  abolished,  but  they  come  back  to  serve 
essentially  the  same  purpose.  The  French  Revolution 
was  an  organized  attempt  to  overturn  the  foundations 
of  society  and  hasten  progress  by  moving  the  hands 
of  the  clock  forward  a  few  centuries, — the  net  result 
was  a  despotism  the  like  of  which  the  world  has  not 
known  since  the  days  of  Rome. 

Anarchy  as  a  system  is  a  bubble,,  the  iridescent  hues 
of  which  attract,  but  which  vanish  into  thin  air  on  the 
slightest  contact  with  reality ;  it  is  the  perpetual  motion 


286  On  an  Automobile 

of  sociology ;  the  fourth  dimension  of  economies ;  the 
squaring  of  the  political  circle. 

A  queer  lot  The  apostles  of  anarchy  are  a  queer  lot, — Godwin 

in  England,  Proudhon,  Grave,  and  Saurin  in  France, 
Schmidt  ("Stirner"),  Faucher,  Hess,  and  Marr  in 
Germany,  Bakunin  and  Krapotkin  in  Russia,  Reclus 
in  Belgium,  with  Most  and  Tucker  in  America,  sum 
up  the  principal  lights, — with  the  exception  of  the 
geographer  Reclus,  not  a  sound  and  sane  man  among 
them ;  in  fact,  scarcely  any  two  agree  upon  a  single 
proposition  save  the  broad  generalization  that  govern 
ment  is  an  evil  which  must  be  eliminated.  Until  they 
do  agree  upon  some  one  measure  or  proposition  of 
practical  importance,  the  world  has  little  to  fear  from 
their  discussions  and  there  is  no  reason  why  any 
attempt  should  be  made  to  suppress  the  debate.  If 
government  is  an  evil,  as  so  many  men  who  are  not 
anarchists  keep  repeating,  then  the  sooner  we  know 
it  and  find  the  remedy  the  better ;  but  if  government 
is  simply  one  of  many  human  institutions  developed 
logically  and  inevitably  to  meet  conditions  created  by 
individual  shortcomings,  then  government  will  tend 
to  diminish  as  we  correct  our  own  failings,  but  that 
it  will  entirely  disappear  is  hardly  likely,  since  it  is 
inconceivable  that  men  on  this  earth  should  ever  attain 
such  a  condition  of  perfection  that  possibility  of  dis 
agreement  is  absolutely  and  forever  removed. 


violence  no  Anarchism  as  a  doctrine,  as  a  theory,  involves  no 

part  of 
anarchism 


act  of  violence  any  more  than  communism  or  social 


ism. 

Between  the  assassination  of  a  ruler  and  the  doctrine 


Anarchism  287 

of  anarchy  there  is  no  necessary  connection.  The 
philosophic  anarchist  simply  believes  anarchy  is  to  be 
the  final  result  of  progress  and  evolution,  just  as  the 
communist  believes  that  communism  will  be  the  out 
come;  neither  theorist  would  see  the  slightest  advan 
tage  in  trying  to  hasten  the  slow  but  sure  progress  of 
events  by  deeds  of  violence;  in  fact,  both  theorists 
would  regret  such  deeds  as  certain  to  prove  reaction 
ary  and  retard  the  march  of  events. 

The  world  has  nothing  to  fear  from  anarchism  as 
a  theory,  and  up  to  thirty  or  forty  years  ago  it  was 
nothing  but  a  theory. 

The  "  propaganda  of  action"  came  out  of  Russia 
about  forty  years  ago,  and  is  the  offspring  of  Russian 
nihilism. 

The  "  propaganda  of  action"  is  the  protest  of  im-   Propaganda  of 
patience  against  evolution ;    it  is  the  effort  to  hasten 
progress  by  deeds  of  violence. 

From  the  few  who,  like  Bakunin,  Brousse,  and 
Krapotkin,  have  written  about  the  "  propaganda  of 
action"  with  sufficient  coherence  to  make  themselves 
understood,  it  appears  that  it  is  not  their  hope  to  de 
stroy  government  by  removing  all  executive  heads, — 
even  their  tortured  brains  recognize  the  impossibility 
of  that  task ;  nor  do  they  hope  to  so  far  terrify  rulers 
as  to  bring  about  their  abdication.  Not  at  all ;  but 
they  do  hope  by  deeds  of  violence  to  so  attract  atten 
tion  to  the  theory  of  anarchy  as  to  win  followers ; — in 
other  words,  murders  such  as  those  of  Humbert,  Car- 
not,  and  President  McKinley  were  mere  advertise 
ments  of  anarchism.  In  the  words  of  Brousse,  "  Deeds 
are  talked  of  on  all  sides ;  the  indifferent  masses  in- 


288  On  an  Automobile 

quire  about  their  origin,  and  thus  pay  attention  to 
the  new  doctrine  and  discuss  it.  Let  men  once  get 
as  far  as  this,  and  it  is  not  hard  to  win  over  many  of 
them." 

Hence,  the  greater  the  crime  the  greater  the  adver 
tisement  ;  from  that  point  of  view,  the  shooting  of 
President  McKinley,  under  circumstances  so  atrocious, 
is  so  far  the  greatest  achievement  of  the  "  propaganda 
of  action." 

Nihilism  It  is  worth  noting  that  the  "  reign  of  terror"  which 

the  Nihilists  sought  to  and  did  create  in  Russia  was 
for  a  far  more  practical  and  immediate  purpose.  They 
sought  to  terrify  the  government  into  granting  re 
forms  ;  so  far  from  seeking  to  annihilate  the  govern 
ment,  they  sought  to  spur  it  into  activity  for  the  benefit 
of  the  masses. 

The  methods  of  the  Nihilists,  without  the  excuse  of 
their  object,  were  borrowed  by  the  more  fanatical 
anarchists,  and  applied  to  the  advertising  of  their 
belief.  Since  the  adoption  of  the  "  propaganda  of 
action"  by  the  extremists,  anarchism  has  undergone  a 
great  change.  It  has  passed  from  a  visionary  and 
harmless  theory,  as  advocated  by  Godwin,  Proudhon, 
and  Reclus,  to  a  very  concrete  agency  of  crime  and 
destruction  under  the  teachings  of  such  as  Bakunin, 
Krapotkin,  and  Most ;  not  forgetting  certain  women 
like  Louise  Michel  in  France  and  Emma  Goldman  in 
this  country  who  out-Herod  Herod ; — when  a  woman 
goes  to  the  devil  she  frightens  him;  his  Satanic 
majesty  welcomes  a  man,  but  dreads  a  woman;  to 
a  woman  the  downward  path  is  a  toboggan  slide,  to 
a  man  it  is  a  gentle  but  seductive  descent. 


Anarchism  289 

It  is  against  the  "  propaganda  of  action"  that  legis-   Effective 
lation  must  be  directed,  not  because  it  is  any  part  of  l 
anarchism,  but  because  it  is  the  propaganda  of  crime. 

Laws  directed  towards  the  suppression  of  anarchism 
might  result  in  more  harm  than  good,  but  crime  is 
quite  another  matter.  It  is  one  thing  to  advocate  less 
and  less  of  government,  to  preach  the  final  disappear 
ance  of  government  and  the  evolution  of  anarchy ;  it 
is  a  fundamentally  different  thing  to  advocate  the 
destruction  of  life  or  property  as  a  means  to  hasten 
the  end. 

The  criminal  action  and  the  criminal  advice  must  be 
dissociated  entirely  from  any  political  or  social  theory. 
It  does  not  matter  what  a  man's  ultimate  purpose  may 
be ;  he  may  be  a  communist  or  a  socialist,  a  Repub 
lican  or  a  Democrat,  a  Presbyterian  or  an  Episco 
palian  ;  when  he  advises,  commits,  or  condones  a 
murder,  his  conduct  is  not  measured  by  his  convic 
tions, — unless,  of  course,  he  is  insane ;  his  advice  is 
measured  by  its  probable  and  actual  consequences ; 
his  deeds  speak  for  themselves. 

A  man  is  not  to  be  punished  or  silenced  for  saying 
he  believes  in  anarchy,  his  convictions  on  that  point 
are  a  matter  of  indifference  to  those  who  believe  other 
wise.  But  a  man  is  to  be  punished  for  saying  or  doing 
things  which  result  in  injuring  others;  and  the  advice, 
whether  given  in  person  to  the  individual  who  commits 
the  deed,  or  given  generally  in  lecture  or  print,  if  it 
moves  the  individual  to  action,  is  equally  criminal. 

On  August  20,  1886,  eight  men  were  found  guilty    The  Chicago 
of  murder  in  Chicago,  seven  were  condemned  to  death   anarchists 
and  one  to  the  penitentiary;    four  were   afterwards 

19 


290  On  an  Automobile 

hanged,  one  killed  himself  in  jail,  and  three  were  im 
prisoned. 

These  men  were  convicted  of  a  crime  with  which, 
so  far  as  the  evidence  showed,  they  had  no  direct  con 
nection;  but  their  speeches,  writings,  and  conduct 
prior  to  the  actual  commission  of  the  crime  had  been 
such  that  they  were  held  guilty  of  having  incited  the 
murder. 

During  the  spring  of  1886  there  were  many  strikes 
and  a  great  deal  of  excitement  growing  out  of  the 
"  eight-hour  movement  in  Chicago."  There  was  much 
disorder.  On  the  evening  of  May  4  a  meeting  was 
held  in  what  was  known  as  Haymarket  Square,  at  this 
meeting  three  of  the  condemned  made  speeches. 
About  ten  o'clock  a  platoon  of  police  marched  to  the 
Square,  halted  a  short  distance  from  the  wagon  where 
the  speakers  were,  and  an  officer  commanded  the 
meeting  to  immediately  and  peaceably  disperse. 
Thereupon  a  bomb  was  thrown  from  near  the 
wagon  into  the  ranks  of  the  policemen,  where  it 
exploded,  killing  and  wounding  a  number. 

The  man  who  threw  the  bomb  was  never  positively 
identified,  but  it  was  probably  one  Rudolph  Schnau- 
belt,  who  disappeared.  At  all  events,  the  condemned 
were  not  connected  with  the  actual  throwing;  they 
were  convicted  upon  the  theory  that  they  were  co- 
conspirators  with  him  by  reason  of  their  speeches, 
writings,  and  conduct  which  influenced  his  conduct. 

An  even  broader  doctrine  of  liability  is  announced 
in  the  following  paragraph  from  the  opinion  of  the 
Supreme  Court  of  Illinois : 


Anarchism  291 

"  If  the  defendants,  as  a  means  of  bringing  about  the  social 
revolution  and  as  a  part  of  the  larger  conspiracy  to  effect  such 
revolution,  also  conspired  to  excite  classes  of  workingmen  in 
Chicago  into  sedition,  tumult,  and  riot,  and  to  the  use  of 
deadly  weapons  and  the  taking  of  human  life,  and  for  the 
purpose  of  producing  such  tumult,  riot,  use  of  weapons  and 
taking  of  life,  advised  and  encouraged  such  classes  by  news 
paper  articles  and  speeches  to  murder  the  authorities  of  the 
city,  and  a  murder  of  a  policeman  resulted  from  such  advice 
and  encouragement,  then  defendants  are  responsible  there 
for." 

It  is  the  logical  application  of  this  proposition  that 
will  defeat  the  "  propaganda  of  action."  If  it  be 
enacted  that  any  man  who  advocates  the  commission 
of  any  criminal  act,  or  who  afterwards  condones  the 
crime,  shall  be  deemed  guilty  of  an  offence  equal  to 
that  advocated  or  condoned  and  punished  accordingly, 
the  "  propaganda  of  action"  in  all  branches  of  criminal 
endeavor  will  be  effectually  stifled  without  the  doubt 
ful  expedient  of  directing  legislation  against  any  par 
ticular  social  or  economic  theory. 


UP    THE     HIL.L. 


CHAPTER   SEVENTEEN 

NEW    YORK    TO    BUFFALO 


IT  was  Saturday,  the  I4th,  at  nine  o'clock,  when  we 
left  New  York  for  Albany,  following  the  route  of 
the  Endurance  Contest. 

The  morning  was  bright  and  warm.  The  roads 
were  perfect  for  miles.  We  passed  Kings  Bridge, 
Yonkers,  Hastings,  and  Dobbs  Ferry  flying.  At  Tar- 
rytown  we  dropped  the  chain.  A  link  had  parted. 
Pushing  the  machine  under  the  shade  of  a  tree,  a 
half-hour  was  spent  in  replacing  the  chain  and  rivet 
ing  in  a  new  link.  All  the  pins  showed  more  or  less 
wear,  and  a  new  chain  should  have  been  put  on  in 
New  York,  but  none  that  would  fit  was  to  be  had. 
292 


New  York  to  Buffalo  293 

We  dined  at  Peekskill,  and  had  a  machinist  go  over 
the  chain,  riveting  the  heads  of  the  pins  so  none 
would  come  out  again. 

Nelson  Hill,  a  mile  and  a  half  beyond  Peekskill,   A  climb 
proved  all  it  was  said  to  be, — and  more. 

In  the  course  of  the  trip  we  had  mounted  hills  that 
were  worse,  and  hills  that  were  steeper,  but  only  in 
spots  or  for  short  distances;  for  a  steady  steep  climb 
Nelson  Hill  surpassed  anything  we  found  in  the  entire 
trip.  The  hill  seems  one-half  to  three-quarters  of  a 
mile  long,  a  sharp  ascent, — somewhat  steeper  about 
half-way  up  than  at  the  beginning  or  finish.  Accurate 
measurements  were  made  for  the  Endurance  Contest 
and  the  results  published. 

The  grade  was  just  a  little  too  much  for  the  ma 
chine,  with  our  luggage  and  ourselves.  It  was  tire 
some  walking  so  far  beside  the  machine,  and  in  at 
tempting  to  bring  it  to  a  stop  for  a  moment's  rest  the 
machine  got  started  backward,  and  was  well  on  its 
way  down  the  hill,  gaining  speed  every  fraction  of  a 
second.  It  was  a  short,  sharp  chase  to  catch  the  lever 
operating  the  emergency  brake, — which  luckily  oper 
ated  by  being  pushed  forward  from  the  seat, — a  pull 
on  the  lever  and  the  machine  was  brought  to  a  stop 
with  the  rear  wheels  hanging  over  the  edge  of  a  gulley 
at  the  side.  After  that  experience  the  machine  was 
allowed  to  go  to  the  top  without  any  more  attempts 
to  rest. 

At  Fishkill  Village  we  saved  a  few  miles  and  some   A  short  cut 
bad  road  by  continuing  on  to  Poughkeepsie  by  the 
inland  road  instead  of  going  down  to  the  Landing. 


294  On  an  Automobile 

We  inquired  the  way  from  an  old  man,  who  said,  "  If 
you  want  to  go  to  P'keepsie,  follow  the  road  just  this 
side  the  post-office ;  you  will  save  a  good  many  miles, 
and  have  a  good  road;  if  you  want  to  follow  the 
other  fellers,  then  keep  straight  on  down  to  the  Land 
ing;  but  why  they  went  down  there,  beats  me." 

It  was  six-thirty  when  we  arrived  at  Poughkeepsie. 
As  the  next  day  would  be  Sunday,  we  made  sure  of 
a  supply  of  gasoline  that  night. 

A  slight  drizzle  Up  to  this  point  the  roads,  barring  Nelson  Hill,  and 
the  weather  had  been  perfect,  but  conditions  were 
about  to  change  for  the  worse. 

Sunday  morning  was  gray  and  drizzly.  We  left  at 
eight-thirty.  The  roads  were  soft  and  in  places  very 
slippery ;  becoming  much  worse  as  we  approached 
Albany,  where  we  arrived  at  half-past  three.  There 
we  should  have  stopped.  We  had  come  seventy-five 
miles  in  seven  hours,  including  all  stops,  over  bad 
roads,  and  that  should  have  sufficed;  but  it  was  such 
an  effort  to  house  the  machine  in  Albany  and  get  set 
tled  in  rooms,  that  we  decided  to  go  on  at  least  as 
far  as  Schenectady. 

Mud  To  the  park  it  was  all  plain  sailing  on  asphalt  and 

macadam,  but  from  the  park  to  the  gate  of  the  ceme 
tery  and  to  the  turn  beyond  the  mud  was  so  deep  and 
sticky  it  seemed  as  if  the  machine  could  not  possibly 
get  through.  If  we  had  attempted  to  turn  about,  we 
would  surely  have  been  stuck ;  there  was  nothing  to 
do  but  follow  the  best  ruts  and  go  straight  on,  hoping 
for  better  things.  The  dread  of  coming  to  a  stand 
still  and  being  obliged  to  get  out  in  that  eight  or  ten 


New  York  to   Buffalo  295 

inches  of  uninviting  mud  was  a  very  appreciable  fac 
tor  in  our  discomfort.  Fortunately,  the  clutch  held 
well  and  the  motor  was  not  stalled.  When  we  passed 
the  corner  beyond  the  cemetery  the  road  was  much 
better,  though  still  so  soft  the  high  speed  could  be 
used  only  occasionally. 

The  tank  showed  a  leak,  which  for  some  reason 
increased  so  rapidly  that  a  pail  of  water  had  to  be 
added  about  every  half-mile.  At  last  a  pint  of  bran 
poured  into  the  tank  closed  the  leak  in  five  minutes. 

On  reaching  Latham  it  was  apparent  that  Schenec-  into  Troy 
tady  could  not  be  made  before  dark,  if  at  all,  so  we 
turned  to  the  right  into  Troy.  We  had  made  the  two 
long  sides  of  a  triangle  over  the  worst  of  roads ; 
whereas,  had  we  run  from  Albany  direct  to  Troy,  we 
could  have  followed  a  good  road  all  the  way. 

The  next  morning  was  the  i6th  of  September,  the 
sun  was  shining  brightly  and  the  wind  was  fresh ; 
the  roads  were  drying  every  moment,  so  we  did  not 
hurry  our  departure. 

The  express  office  in  Albany  was  telephoned  for  a  Repairs 
new  chain  that  had  been  ordered,  and  in  about  an  hour 
it  was  delivered.  The  machine  was  driven  into  a  side 
street  in  front  of  a  metal  roofing  factory,  the  tank 
taken  out  and  so  thoroughly  repaired  it  gave  no  fur 
ther  trouble.  It  was  noon  before  the  work  was  fin 
ished,  for  the  new  chain  and  a  new  belt  to  the  pump 
had  to  be  put  on,  and  many  little  things  done  which 
consumed  time. 

At  two  o'clock  we  left  Troy.  The  road  to  Schenec- 
tady  in  good  weather  is  quite  good,  but  after  the  rain 


296  On  an   Automobile 

it  was  heavy  with  half-dried  mud  and  deep  with  ruts. 
From  Schenectady  to  Fonda,  where  we  arrived  at 
six-thirty,  the  roads  were  very  bad;  however,  forty- 
five  miles  in  four  hours  and  a  half  was  fairly  good 
travelling  under  the  adverse  conditions.  If  the  ma 
chine  had  been  equipped  with  an  intermediate  gear, 
an  average  of  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  could  have  been 
easily  made.  The  going  was  just  a  little  too  heavy  for 
the  fast  speed  and  altogether  too  easy  for  the  low,  and 
yet  we  were  obliged  to  travel  for  hours  on  the  low 
gear. 

Poor  hotels  From  New  York  to  Buffalo  there  is  a  succession  of 

cities  and  villages  which  are,  for  the  most  part,  very 
attractive,  but  good  hotels  are  scarce,  and  as  for  way 
side  inns  there  are  none.  With  the  exception  of  Al 
bany  and  one  or  two  other  cities  the  hotels  are  old, 
dingy,  and  dirty.  Here  and  there,  as  in  Geneva,  a 
new  hotel  is  found,  but  to  most  of  the  cities  the  hotels 
are  a  disgrace. 

The  automobile,  however,  accustoms  one  to  discom 
forts,  and  one  gets  so  tired  and  hungry  at  night  that 
the  shortcomings  of  the  village  hotel  are  overlooked, 
or  not  fully  realized  until  seen  the  next  morning  by  the 
frank  light  of  day. 

Fonda  is  the  occasion  of  these  remarks  upon  New 
York  hotels. 

More  rain  \\_  was  cloudy  and  threatening  when  we.  left  Fonda 

at  half-past  seven  the  next  morning,  and  by  ten  the 
rain  began  to  fall  so  heavily  and  steadily  that  the  roads, 
none  too  dry  before,  were  soon  afloat. 

It  was  slow  going.    At  St.  Johnsville  we  stopped  to 


New  York  to  Buffalo  297 

buy  heavier  rubber  coats.  It  did  not  seem  possible  we 
would  get  through  the  day  without  coming  to  a  stop, 
but,  strange  to  relate,  the  machine  kept  on  doggedly 
all  day,  on  the  slow  gear  nearly  every  mile,  without  a 
break  of  any  kind. 

It  was  bad  enough  from  St.  Johnsville  to  Herkimer,    The  very  worst 
but  the  worst  was  then  to  come. 

When  we  came  east  from  Utica  to  Herkimer,  we 
followed  the  road  on  the  north  side  of  the  valley,  and 
recalled  it  as  hilly  but  very  dry  and  good.  The  Endur 
ance  Contest  was  out  of  Herkimer,  through  Frank 
fort  and  along  the  canal  on  the  south  side  of  the  valley. 
It  was  a  question  whether  to  follow  the  road  we  knew 
was  pretty  good  or  follow  the  contest  route,  which 
presumably  was  selected  as  the  better. 

A  liveryman  at  Herkimer  said,  "  Take  my  advice 
and  keep  on  the  north  side  of  the  valley ;  the  road  is 
hilly,  but  sandy  and  drier ;  if  you  go  through  Frank 
fort,  you  will  find  some  pretty  fierce  going;  the  road 
is  level  but  cut  up  and  deep  with  mud, — keep  on  the 
north  side." 

We  should  have  followed  that  advice,  the  more  so 
since  it  coincided  with  our  own  impressions ;  but  at 
the  store  where  we  stopped  for  gasoline,  a  man  who 
said  he  drove  an  automobile  advised  the  road  through 
Frankfort  as  the  better. 

It  was  in  Frankfort  that  several  of  the  contestants    i-nnikfort 
in    the   endurance   run   came   to   grief, — right   on   the 
main  street  of  the  village.    There  was  no  sign  of  pave 
ment,  macadam,  or  gravel,  just  deep,  dark,  rich  muck ; 


298  On  an  Automobile 

how  deep  no  one  could  tell ;  a  road  so  bad  it  spoke 
volumes  for  the  shiftlessness  and  lack  of  enterprise 
prevailing  in  the  village. 

A  little  beyond  Frankfort  there  is  about  a  mile  of 
State  road,  laid  evidently  to  furnish  inhabitants  an 
object  lesson, — and  laid  in  vain. 

A  little  farther  on  the  black  muck  road  leads  between 
the  canal  and  towpath  high  up  on  the  left,  and  a  high 
board  fence  protecting  the  railroad  tracks  on  the  right ; 
in  other  words,  the  highway  was  the  low  ground  be 
tween  two  elevations.  The  rains  of  the  week  before 
and  the  rains  of  the  last  two  days  had  converted  the 
road  into  a  vast  ditch.  We  made  our  way  slowly  into 
it,  and  then  seizing  an  opening  ran  up  on  to  the  tow- 
path,  which  was  of  sticky  clay  and  bad  enough,  but 
not  quite  so  discouraging  as  the  road.  We  felt  our 
way  along  carefully,  for  the  machine  threatened  every 
moment  to  slide  either  into  the  canal  on  the  left  or 
down  the  bank  into  the  road  on  the  right. 

Soon  we  were  obliged  to  turn  back  to  the  road  and 
take  our  chances  on  a  long  steady  pull  on  the  slow 
gear.  Again  and  again  it  seemed  as  if  the  motor  would 
stop;  several  times  it  was  necessary  to  throw  out  the 
clutch,  let  the  motor  race,  and  then  throw  in  the  clutch 
to  get  the  benefit  of  both  the  motor  and  the  momentum 
of  the  two-hundred  pound  fly-wheel ;  it  was  a  strain 
on  the  chain  and  gears,  but  they  held,  and  the  machine 
would  be  carried  'forward  ten  or  twelve  feet  by  the 
impetus ;  in  that  way  the  worst  spots  were  passed. 

Towards  Utica  the  roads  were  better,  though  we 
nearly  came  to  grief  in  a  low  place  just  outside  the 
city. 


New  York  to  Buffalo  299 

It  required   all   Wednesday  morning  to   clean  and    uticato 
overhaul  the  machine.     Every  crevice  was  filled  with   J 
mud,  and  grit  had  worked  into  the  chain  and  every 
exposed  part.    There  was  also  some  lost  motion  to  be 
taken  up  to  stop  a  disagreeable  pounding.     The  strain 
on  the  new  chain  had  stretched  it  so  a  link  had  to  be 
taken  out. 

It  was  two  o'clock  before  we  left  Utica.  A  little 
beyond  the  outskirts  of  the  city  the  road  forks,  the 
right  is  the  road  to  Syracuse,  and  it  is  gravelled  most 
of  the  way.  Unfortunately,  we  took  the  left  fork,  and 
for  seven  miles  ploughed  through  red  clay,  so  sticky 
that  several  times  we  just  escaped  being  stalled.  It 
was  not  until  we  reached  Clinton  that  we  discovered 
our  mistake  and  turned  cross  country  to  the  right  road. 
The  cross-road  led  through  a  low  boggy  meadow  that 
was  covered  with  water,  and  there  we  nearly  foun 
dered.  When  the  hard  gravel  of  the  turnpike  was 
reached,  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  irritation  that  we 
looked  back  upon  the  time  wasted  in  the  horrible  roads 
we  need  not  have  taken. 

The  day  was  bright,  and  every  hour  of  sun  and  wind 
improved  the  roads,  so  that  by  the  time  we  were  pass 
ing  Oneida  Castle  the  going  was  good.  It  was  dark 
when  we  passed  through  Fayetteville ;  a  little  beyond 
our  reserve  gallon  of  gasoline  was  put  in  the  tank  and 
the  run  was  made  over  the  toll-road  to  Syracuse  on 
"  short  rations." 

A  well-kept  toll-road  is  a  boon  in  bad  weather,  but    Ton-roads 
to  the  driver  of  an  automobile  the  stations  are  a  great 
nuisance;    one  is  scarcely  passed  before  another  is  in 


300  On  an   Automobile 

sight ;  it  is  stop,  stop,  stop.  There  are  so  many  old 
toll-roads  upon  which  toll  is  no  longer  collected  that 
one  is  apt  to  get  in  the  habit  of  whizzing  through  the 
gates  so  fast  that  the  keepers,  if  there  be  any,  have  no 
time  to  come  out,  much  less  to  collect  the  rates. 

Cold  It  was  cold  the  next  morning  when  we  started 

from  Syracuse,  and  it  waxed  colder  and  colder  all 
day  long. 

The  Endurance  Contest  followed  the  direct  road  to 
Rochester,  going  by  way  of  Port  Byron,  Lyons,  Pal 
myra,  and  Pittsford.  That  road  is  neither  interesting 
nor  good.  Even  if  one  is  going  to  Rochester,  the 
roads  are  better  to  the  south  ;  but  as  we  had  no  in 
tention  of  visiting  the  city  again,  we  took  Genesee 
Street  and  intended  to  follow  it  into  Buffalo. 

The  old  turnpike  leads  to  the  north  of  Auburn  and 
Seneca  Falls,  but  we  turned  into  the  Falls  for  dinner. 
In  trying  to  find  and  follow  the  turnpike  we  missed  it, 
and  ran  so  far  to  the  north  that  we  were  within  seven 
or  eight  miles  of  Rochester,  so  near,  in  fact,  that  at 
the  village  of  Victor  the  inhabitants  debated  whether 
it  would  not  be  better  to  run  into  Rochester  and  thence 
to  Batavia  by  Bergen  rather  than  southwest  through 
Avon  and  Caledonia. 

Having  started  out  with  the  intention  of  passing 
Rochester,  we  were  just  obstinate  enough  to  keep  to 
the  south.  The  result  was  that  for  nearly  the  entire 
day  the  machine  was  laboring  over  the  indifferent 
roads  that  usually  lie  just  between  two  main  travelled 
highways.  It  was  not  until  dusk  that  the  gravelled 
turnpike  leading  into  Avon  was  found,  and  it  was 


New  York  to   Buffalo  301 

after  seven  when  we  drew  up  in  front  of  the  small 
St.  George  Hotel. 

The  glory  of  Avon  has  departed.  Once  it  was  a  Avon 
great  resort,  with  hotels  in  size  almost  equal  to  those 
now  at  Saratoga.  The  Springs  were  famous  and 
people  came  from  all  parts  of  the  country.  The  hotels 
are  gone,  some  burned,  some  destroyed,  but  old 
registers  are  preserved,  and  they  bear  the  signatures 
of  Webster,  Clay,  and  many  noted  men  of  that  genera 
tion. 

The  Springs  are  a  mile  or  two  away ;  the  water  is 
supposed  to  possess  rare  medicinal  virtues,  and  in 
valids  still  come  to  test  its  potency,  but  there  is  no 
life,  no  gayety;  the  Springs  and  the  village  are  quite 
forlorn. 

At  the  St.  George  we  found  good  rooms  and  a  most 
excellent  supper.  In  the  office  after  supper,  with 
chairs  tipped  back  and  legs  crossed,  the  older  resi 
dents  told  many  a  tale  of  the  palmy  days  of  Avon 
when  carriages  filled  the  Square  and  the  streets  were 
gay  with  people  in  search  of  pleasure  rather  than 
health. 

It  was  a  quick  run  the  next  morning  through  Gale-    over  good 
donia  to  Le  Roy  over  roads  hard  and  smooth  as  a 
floor. 

Just  out  of  Le  Roy  we  met  a  woman,  with  a  basket 
of  eggs,  driving  a  horse  that  seemed  sobriety  itself. 
We  drew  off  to  one  side  and  stopped  the  machine  to 
let  her  pass.  The  horse  stopped,  and  unfortunately 
she  gave  a  "  yank"  on  one  of  the  reins,  turning  the 


302  On  an  Automobile 

horse  to  one  side ;  then  a  pull  on  the  other  rein,  turn 
ing  the  horse  sharply  to  the  other  side.  This  was  too 
much  for  the  animal,  and  he  kept  on  around,  overturn 
ing  the  light  buck-board  and  upsetting  the  woman, 
eggs,  and  all  into  the  road.  The  horse  then  kicked 
himself  free  and  trotted  off  home. 

The  woman,  fortunately,  was  not  injured,  but  the 
eggs  were,  and  she  mournfully  remarked  they  were 
not  hers,  and  that  she  was  taking  them  to  market  for 
a  neighbor.  The  wagon  was  slightly  damaged.  Re 
lieved  to  find  the  woman  unhurt,  the  damage  to  wagon 
and  eggs  was  more  than  made  good;  then  we  took 
the  woman  home  in  the  automobile, — her  first  ride. 

It  does  not  matter  how  little  to  blame  one  may  be 
for  a  runaway;  the  fact  remains  that  were  it  not  for 
the  presence  of  the  automobile  on  the  road  the  par 
ticular  accident  would  not  have  occurred.  The  fault 
may  be  altogether  on  the  side  of  the  inexperienced 
or  careless  driver,  but  none  the  less  the  driver  of  the 
automobile  feels  in  a  certain  sense  that  he  has  been 
the  immediate  cause,  and  it  is  impossible  to  describe 
the  feeling  of  relief  one  experiences  when  it  turns  out 
that  no  one  is  injured. 

A  machine  could  seldom  meet  a  worse  combination 
than  a  fairly  spirited  horse,  a  nervous  woman,  and  a 
large  basket  of  eggs.  With  housewifely  instincts,  the 
woman  was  sure  to  think  first  of  the  eggs. 

Buffalo  once  We  stopped  at  Batavia  for  dinner,  and  made  the 

run  into  Buffalo  in  exactly  two  hours,  arriving  at  four 
o'clock. 

We  ran  the  machine  to  the  same  station,  and  found 


more 


New  York  to   Buffalo  303 

unoccupied  the  same  rooms  we  had  left  four  weeks 
and  two  days  before.  It  seemed  an  age  since  that 
Wednesday,  August  24,  when  we  started  out,  so  much 
had  transpired,  every  hour  had  been  so  eventful. 
Measured  by  the  new  things  we  had  seen  and  the 
strange  things  that  had  happened,  the  interval  was 
months  not  weeks. 

A  man  need  not  go  beyond  his  doorstep  to  find  a    ourow* 

1  ,        ,   .  .  11     •  •       country 

new  world ;  his  own  country,  however  small,  is  a  uni 
verse  that  can  never  be  fully  explored.  And  yet  such 
is  the  perversity  of  human  nature  that  we  know  all 
countries  better  than  our  own ;  we  travel  everywhere 
except  at  home.  The  denizens  of  the  earth  in  their 
wanderings  cross  each  other  en  route  like  letters ;  all 
Europe  longs  to  see  Niagara,  all  America  to  see  Mont 
Blanc,  and  yet  whoever  sees  the  one  sees  the  other, 
for  the  grandeur  of  both  is  the  same.  It  does  not 
matter  whether  a  vast  volume  of  water  is  pouring 
over  the  sharp  edge  of  a  cliff,  or  a  huge  pile  of  scarred 
and  serrated  rock  rises  to  the  heavens,  the  grandeur 
is  the  same ;  it  is  not  the  outward  form  we  stand 
breathless  before,  but  the  forces  of  nature  which  pro 
duce  every  visible  and  invisible  effect.  The  child  of 
nature  worships  the  god  within  the  mountains  and  the 
spirit  behind  the  waters ;  whereas  we  in  our  great 
haste  observe  only  the  outward  form,  see  only  the  fall 
ing  waters  and  the  towering  peaks. 

It  is  good  for  every  man  to  come  at  least  once  in 
his  life  in  contact  with  some  overpowering  work  of 
nature ;  it  is  better  for  most  men  to  never  see  but  one ; 
let  the  memory  linger,  let  not  the  impression  be  too 


304  On  an  Automobile 

soon  effaced,  rather  let  it  sink  deep  into  the  heart  until 
it  becomes  a  part  of  life. 

Like  the  winds  Steam  has  impaired  the  imagination.  Such  is  the 
facility  of  modern  transportation  that  we  ride  on  the 
ocean  to-day  and  sit  at  the  feet  of  the  mountains 
to-morrow. 

Nowadays  we  see  just  so  much  of  nature  as  the 
camera  sees  and  no  more ;  our  vision  is  but  surface 
deep,  our  eyes  are  but  two  clear,  bright  lenses  with 
nothing  behind,  not  even  a  dry  plate  to  record  the 
impressions.  It  is  a  physiological  fact  that  the  cells 
of  the  brain  which  first  receive  impressions  from  the 
outward  organs  of  sense  may  be  reduced  to  a  condi 
tion  of  comparative  inactivity  by  too  rapid  succession 
of  sights,  sounds,  and  other  sensations.  We  see  so 
much  that  we  see  nothing.  To  really  see  is  to  fully 
comprehend,  therefore  our  capacity  for  seeing  is 
limited.  No  man  has  really  seen  Niagara,  no  man 
has  ever  really  seen  Mont  Blanc ;  for  that  matter,  no 
man  has  even  fully  comprehended  so  much  as  a  grain 
of  sand ;  therefore  the  universe  is  at  one's  doorstep. 

Nature  a  unit  Nature  is  a  unit ;  it  is  not  a  whole  made  up  of  many 
diverse  parts,  but  is  a  whole  which  is  inherent  in  every 
part.  No  two  persons  see  the  same  things  in  a  blos 
soming  flower;  to  the  botanist  it  is  one  thing,  to  the 
poet  another,  to  the  painter  another,  to  the  child  a  bit 
of  bright  color,  to  the  maiden  an  emblem  of  love,  to 
the  heart-broken  woman  a  cluster  of  memories ;  to  /io 
two  is  it  precisely  the  same. 

The  longer  we  look  at  anything,  however  simple, 
the  deeper  it  penetrates  into  our  being  until  it  becomes 


New  York  to  Buffalo  305 

a  part  of  us.  In  time  we  learn  to  know  the  tree  that 
shades  our  porch,  but  years  elapse  before  we  are  on 
friendly  terms,  and  a  lifetime  is  spent  before  the 
gnarled  giant  admits  us  to  intimate  companionship. 
Trees  are  filled  with  reserve ;  when  denuded  of  their 
neighbors,  they  stand  in  melancholy  solitude  until  the 
leaves  fall  for  the  last  time,  until  their  branches  wither, 
and  their  trunks  ring  hollow  with  decay. 

And  if  we  never  really  see  or  know  or  understand  strange™ 
the  nature  which  is  about  us,  how  is  it  possible  that 
we  should  ever  comprehend  the  people  we  meet? 
What  is  the  use  of  trying  to  know  an  Englishman  or 
a  Frenchman  when  we  do  not  know  an  American? 
What  is  the  use  of  struggling  with  the  obstacle  of  a 
foreign  tongue,  when  our  own  will  not  suffice  for  the 
communication  of  thoughts?  The  only  light  that  we 
have  is  at  home ;  travellers  are  men  groping  in  the 
dark ;  they  fancy  they  see  much,  but  for  the  most  part 
they  see  nothing.  No  great  teacher  has  ever  been  a 
great  traveller.  Buddha,  Confucius,  and  Mahomet 
never  left  the  confines  of  their  respective  countries. 
Plato  lived  in  Athens ;  Shakespeare  travelled  between 
London  and  Stratford ;  these  great  souls  found  it  quite 
sufficient  to  know  themselves  and  the  vast  universe  as 
reflected  from  the  eyes  of  those  about  them.  But  then 
they  are  the  exceptions. 

For  most  men — including  geniuses — travel  and  de 
liberate  observation  are  good,  since  most  men  will  not 
observe  at  home.  Such  is  the  singularity  of  our  na 
ture  that  we  ignore  the  interesting  at  home  to  study 
the  commonplace  abroad.  We  never  notice  a  narrow 
and  crooked  street  in  Boston  or  lower  New  York, 


306  On  an  Automobile 

whereas  a  narrow  and  crooked  street  in  London  fills 
us  with  an  ecstasy  of  delight.  We  never  visit  the 
Metropolitan  Art  Museum,  but  we  cross  Europe  to 
visit  galleries  of  lesser  interest.  We  choose  a  night 
boat  down  the  majestic  Hudson,  and  we  suffer  untold 
discomforts  by  day  on  crowded  little  boats  paddling 
down  the  comparatively  insignificant  Rhine. 

Our  country  Every  country  possesses  its  own  peculiar  advan 
tages  and  beauties.  There  is  no  desert  so  barren,  no 
mountains  so  bleak,  no  woods  so  wild  that  to  those 
who  dwell  therein  their  home  is  not  beautiful.  The 
Esquimau  would  not  exchange  his  blinding  waste  of 
snow  and  dark  fields  cf  water  for  the  luxuriance  of 
tropic  vegetation.  Why  should  we  exchange  the 
glories  of  the  land  we  live  in  for  the  footworn  and 
sight-worn,  the  thumbed  and  fingered  beauties  of  other 
lands?  If  we  desire  novelty  and  adventure,  seek  it 
in  the  unexplored  regions  of  the  great  Northwest ;  if 
we  crave  grandeur,  visit  the  Yellowstone  and  the  fast 
nesses  of  the  Rockies ;  if  we  wish  the  sublime,  gaze 
in  the  mighty  chasm  of  the  Canon  of  the  Colorado, 
where  strong  men  weep  as  they  look  down ;  if  we 
seek  desolation,  traverse  the  alkali  plains  of  Arizona 
where  the  trails  are  marked  by  bones  of  men  and 
beasts ;  but  if  the  heart  yearns  for  beauty  more  serene, 
go  forth  among  the  habitations  of  men  where  fields 
are  green  and  sheltering  woods  offer  refuge  from  the 
noonday  sun,  where  rivers  ripple  with  laughter,  and 
the  great  lakes  smile  in  soft  content. 

Unhappy  the  man  \vho  does  not  believe  his  country 
the  best  on  earth  and  his  people  the  chosen  of  men. 


New  York  to  Buffalo  307 

The  promise  of  automobiling  is  knowledge  of  one's  The  future 
own  land.  The  confines  of  a  city  are  stifling  to  the 
sport ;  the  machine  snorts  with  impatience  on  dusty 
pavements  filled  with  traffic,  and  seeks  the  freedom  of 
country  roads.  Within  a  short  time  every  hill  and 
valley  within  a  radius  of  a  hundred  miles  is  a  familiar 
spot ;  the  very  houses  become  known,  and  farmers 
shout  friendly  greetings  as  the  machine  flies  by,  or 
lend  helping  hands  when  it  is  in  distress. 

Within  a  season  or  two  it  will  be  an  every-day  sight 
to  see  people  journeying  leisurely  from  city  to  city; 
abandoned  taverns  will  be  reopened,  new  ones  built, 
and  the  highways,  long  since  deserted  by  pleasure,  will 
once  more  be  gay  with  life. 


CHAPTER   EIGHTEEN 

THROUGH    CANADA    HOME 


Customs 


WE  left  Buffalo,  Saturday  the  2Oth,  at  four  o'clock 
for  St.  Catharines.  At  the  Bridge  we  were  delayed 
a  short  time  by  customs  formalities. 

In  going  out  of  the  States  it  is  necessary  to  enter 
the  machine  for  export  and  return,  otherwise  on 
coming  in  again  the  officials  on  our  side  will  collect 
duty  on  its  full  value. 

On  crossing  to  the  Canadian  side,  it  is  necessary 

to  enter  the  machine  and  pay  the  duty  of  thirty  per 

cent,  on  its  valuation.     The  machine  is  entered   for 

temporary  use  in  Canada,  under  a  law  providing  for 

308 


Through   Canada   Home          309 

the  use  of  bicycles,  hunting  and  fishing  outfits,  and 
sporting  implements  generally,  and  the  port  at  which 
you  intend  to  go  out  is  named ;  a  receipt  for  the  duty 
deposited  is  given  and  the  money  is  either  refunded 
at  the  port  of  exit  or  the  machine  is  simply  identified 
by  the  officials,  and  remittance  made  upon  returning 
the  receipt  to  the  port  of  entry. 

It  is  something  of  a  bother  to  deposit  thirty  per 
cent,  upon  the  valuation  of  an  automobile,  but  the 
Canadian  officials  are  obliging ;  and  where  it  is  clearly 
apparent  that  there  is  no  intention  of  selling  the  ma 
chine  in  the  province,  they  are  not  exacting  as  to  the 
valuation ;  a  two-thousand-dollar  machine  may  be 
valued  pretty  low  as  second-hand.  If,  however,  any 
thing  should  occur  which  would  make  it  desirable  to 
leave  or  sell  the  machine  in  Canada,  a  re-entry  at  full 
market  valuation  should  be  made  immediately,  other 
wise  the  machine  is — very  properly — subject  to  con 
fiscation. 

Parties  running  across  the  river  from  Buffalo  for 
a  day's  run  are  not  bothered  at  all.  The  officials  on 
both  sides  let  the  machines  pass,  but  any  one  cross 
ing  Canada  would  better  comply  with  all  regulations 
and  save  trouble. 

It  was  six  o'clock  when  we  arrived  at  St.  Catha-  /«  Canada 
rines.  The  Wendell  Hotel  happens  to  be  a  mineral 
water  resort  with  baths  for  invalids,  and  therefore 
much  better  as  a  hotel  than  most  Canadian  houses ; 
in  fact,  it  may  be  said  once  for  all,  that  Canadian 
hotels,  with  the  exception  of  two  or  three,  are  very 
poor;  they  are  as  indifferent  in  the  cities  as  in  the 


310  On  an  Automobile 

smaller  towns,  being  for  the  most  part  dingy  and 
dirty. 

But  what  Canada  lacks  in  hotels  she  more  than 
makes  up  in  roads.  Miles  upon  miles  of  well-made 
and  well-kept  gravel  roads  cross  the  province  of  On 
tario  in  every  direction.  The  people  seem  to  appre 
ciate  the  economy  of  good  hard  highways  over  which 
teams  can  draw  big  loads  without  undue  fatigue. 

We  left  St.  Catharines  at  nine  o'clock  Sunday  morn 
ing,  taking  the  old  Dundas  road ;  this  was  a  mistake, 
the  direct  road  to  Hamilton  being  the  better.  Off  the 
main  travelled  roads  we  found  a  good  deal  of  sand ; 
but  that  was  our  fault,  for  it  was  needless  to  take 
these  little  travelled  by-ways.  Again,  out  of  Hamilton 
to  London  we  did  not  follow  the  direct  and  better 
road;  this  was  due  to  error  in  directions  given  us  at 
the  drug  store  where  we  stopped  for  gasoline. 

Gasoline  is  not  so  easily  obtained  in  Canada  as  in 
the  States;  it  is  not  to  be  had  at  all  in  many  of  the 
small  villages,  and  in  the  cities  it  is  not  generally  kept 
in  any  quantity.  One  drug  store  in  Hamilton  had 
half-a-dozen  six-ounce  bottles  neatly  put  up  and 
labelled  "Gasoline:  Handle  with  Care;"  another  had 
two  gallons,  which  we  purchased.  The  price  was  high, 
but  the  price  of  gasoline  is  the  very  least  of  the  con 
cerns  of  automobiling. 

spring  breaks  On  the  way  to  London  a  forward  spring  collapsed 
entirely.  Binding  the  broken  leaves  together  with 
wire  we  managed  to  get  in  all  right,  but  the  next 
morning  we  were  delayed  an  hour  while  a  wheelwright 
made  a  more  permanent  repair. 


Through   Canada  Home          3  1 1 

Monday,  the  22cl,  was  one  of  the  record  days. 
Leaving  London  at  half-past  nine  we  took  the  Old 
Sarnia  Gravel  for  Sarnia,  some  seventy  miles  away. 
With  scarcely  a  pause,  we  flew  over  the  superb  road, 
hard  gravel  every  inch  of  it,  and  into  Sarnia  at  one 
o'clock  for  luncheon. 

Over  an  hour  was  spent  in  lunching,  ferrying  across 
the  river,  and  getting  through  the  two  custom-houses. 

Canada  is  an  anachronism.     Within  the  lifetime  of    Canada  and 

i«     •  .«        -r^.          .  MI    1  f     annexation 

men  now  living,  the  Dominion  will  become  a  part  of 
the  United  States ;  this  is  fate  not  politics,  evolution 
not  revolution,  destiny  not  design.  How  it  will  come 
about  no  man  can  tell ;  that  it  will  come  about  is  as 
certain  as  fate. 

With  an  area  almost  exactly  that  of  the  United 
States,  Canada  has  a  population  of  but  five  millions, 
or  about  one-fifteenth  the  population  of  this  country. 
Between  1891  and  1901  the  population  of  the  Do 
minion  increased  only  five  hundred  thousand,  or  about 
ten  per  cent.,  as  against  an  increase  of  fourteen  mil 
lions,  or  twenty-one  per  cent.,  in  this  country. 

For  a  new  country  in  a  new  world  Canada  stag 
nates.  In  the  decade  referred  to  Chicago  alone  gained 
more  in  population  than  the  entire  Dominion.  The 
fertile  province  of  Ontario  gained  but  fifty-four  thou 
sand  in  the  ten  years,  while  the  States  of  Michigan, 
Indiana,  and  Ohio,  which  are  near  by,  gained  each 
nearly  ten  times  as  much ;  and  the  gain  of  New  York, 
lying  just  across  the  St.  Lawrence,  was  over  twelve 
hundred  thousand.  The  total  area  of  these  four 
States  is  about  four-fifths  that  of  Ontario,  and  yet 


3  i  2  On   an   Automobile 

their  increase  of  population  in  ten  years  more  than 
equals  the  entire  population  of  the  province. 

In  population,  wealth,  industries,  and  resources  On 
tario  is  the  Dominion's  gem ;  yet  in  a  decade  she  could 
attract  and  hold  but  fifty-odd  thousand  persons, — not 
quite  all  the  children  horn  within  her  borders. 

Present  All  political  divisions  aside,  there  is  no  reason   in 

'abnormal  tne  world  why  population  should  be  dense  on  the  west 

bank  of  the  Detroit  River  and  sparse  on  the  east ;  why 

people  should  teem  to  suffocation  to  the  south  of  the 

St.  Lawrence  and  not  to  the  north. 

These  conditions  are  not  normal,  and  sooner  or  later 
must  change.  It  is  not  in  the  nature  of  things  that  this 
North  American  continent  should  be  arbitrarily  di 
vided  in  its  most  fertile  midst  by  political  lines,  and 
by  and  by  it  will  be  impossible  to  keep  the  multiplying 
millions  south  of  the  imaginary  line  from  surging 
across  into  the  rich  vacant  territory  to  the  north.  The 
outcome  is  inevitable ;  neither  diplomacy  nor  state 
craft  can  prevent  it. 

When  the  population  of  this  country  is  a  hundred 
or  a  hundred  and  fifty  millions  the  line  will  have  dis 
appeared.  There  may  be  a  struggle  of  some  kind  over 
some  real  or  fancied  grievance,  but,  struggle  or  no 
struggle,  it  is  not  for  man  to  oppose  for  long  inevitable 
tendencies.  In  the  long  run,  population,  like  water, 
seeks  its  level ;  in  adjacent  territories,  the  natural  ad 
vantages  and  attractions  of  which  are  alike,  the  popu 
lation  tends  strongly  to  become  equally  dense ;  politi 
cal  conditions  and  differences  in  race  and  language 
may  for  a  time  hold  this  tendency  in  check,  but  where 


Through   Canada   Home  3  i  3 

race  and  language  are  the  same,  political  barriers  must 
soon  give  way. 

All  that  has  preserved  Canada  from  absorption  up  Canada's 
to  this  time  is  the  existence  of  those  mighty  natural 
barriers,  the  St.  Lawrence  and  the  great  lakes.  As 
population  increases  in  the  Northwest,  where  the  di 
viding  line  is  known  only  to  surveyors,  the  situation 
will  become  critical.  Already  the  rush  to  the  Klon 
dike  has  produced  trouble  in  Alaska.  The  aggressive 
miners  from  this  side,  who  constitute  almost  the  en 
tire,  population,  submit  with  ill-grace  to  Canadian 
authority.  They  do  not  like  it,  and  Dawson  or  some 
near  point  may  yet  become  a  second  Johannesburg. 

In  all  controversies  so  far,  Canada  has  been  as  bel-  England 
ligerent  as  England  has  been  conciliatory.  With  rare 
tact  and  diplomacy  England  has  avoided  all  serious 
differences  with  this  country  over  Canadian  matters 
without  at  the  same  time  offending  the  pride  of  the 
Dominion;  just  how  long  this  can  be  kept  up  no  man 
can  tell ;  but  not  for  more  than  a  generation  to  come, 
if  so  long. 

So  far  as  the  people  of  Canada  are  concerned,  practi 
cally  all  would  be  opposed  to  any  form  of  annexation. 
The  great  majority  of  the  people  are  Englishmen  at 
heart  and  very  English  in  thought,  habit,  speech,  and 
accent ;  they  are  much  more  closely  allied  to  the  mother 
country  than  to  this;  and  they  are  exceedingly 
patriotic. 

They  do  not  like  us  because  they  rather  fear  us, — 
not  physically,  not  as  man  against  man, — but  fear  our 


314  On  an  Automobile 

overwhelming  size  and  increasing  importance,  fear  for 
the  future,  fear  what  down  deep  in  their  hearts  many 
of  them  know  must  come.  Their  own  increasing  in 
dependence  has  taught  them  the  sentimental  and  un 
substantial  character  of  the  ties  binding  them  to  Eng 
land,  and  yet  they  know  full  well  that  with  those  ties 
severed  their  independence  would  soon  disappear. 

in  Michigan  Michigan  roads  are  all  bad,  but  some  are  worse  than 

others. 

About  Port  Huron  is  sand.  Out  of  the  city  there  is 
a  rough  stone  road  made  of  coarse  limestone ;  it  did 
not  lead  in  the  direction  we  wished  to  go,  but  by 
taking  it  we  were  able  to  get  away  from  the  river  and 
the  lake  and  into  a  country  somewhat  less  sandy. 

Towards  evening,  while  trying  to  follow  the  most 
direct  road  into  Lapeer,  and  which  an  old  lady  said 
was  good  "  excepting  one  hill,  which  isn't  very  steep," 
we  came  to  a  hill  which  was  not  steep,  but  sand,  deep, 
bottomless,  yellow  sand.  Again  and  again  the  ma 
chine  tried  to  scale  that  hill ;  it  was  impossible.  There 
was  nothing  to  do  but  turn  about  and  find  a  better 
road.  An  old  farmer,  who  had  been  leaning  on  the 
fence  watching  our  efforts,  sagely  remarked : 

"  I  was  afeard  your  nag  would  balk  on  that  thar 
hill;  it  is  little  the  worst  rise  anywhere's  about  here, 
and  most  of  us  know  better'n  to  attempt  it;  but  I 
guess  you're  a  stranger." 

We  dined  at  Lapeer,  and  by  dark  made  the  run  of 
eighteen  miles  into  Flint,  where  we  arrived  at  eight- 
thirty.  We  had  covered  one  hundred  and  forty  miles 
in  twelve  hours,  including  all  stops,  delays,  and  diffi- 


Through   Canada  Home  315 

culties.     It  was  the  Old  Sarnia  Gravel  which  helped 
us  on  our  journey  that  day. 

At  Flint  another  new  chain  was  put  on,  and  also  a  More  repairs 
rear  sprocket  with  new  differential  gears.  The  old 
sprocket  was  badly  worn  and  the  teeth  of  the  gears 
showed  traces  of  hard  usage.  A  new  spring  was  sub 
stituted  for  the  broken,  and  the  machine  was  ready  for 
the  last  lap  of  the  long  run. 

Leaving  Flint  on  Friday  morning,  the  26th,  a  round 
about  run  was  made  to  Albion  for  the  night.  The 
intention  was  to  follow  the  line  of  the  Grand  Trunk 
through  Lansing,  Battle  Creek,  and  Owosso,  but,  over- 
persuaded  by  some  wiseacres,  a  turn  was  made  to 
Jackson,  striking  there  the  olcl  State  road. 

The  roads  through  Lansing  and  Battle  Creek  can  be 
no  worse  than  the  sandy  and  hilly  turnpike.  Now 
and  then  a  piece  of  gravel  is  found,  but  only  for  a 
short  distance,  ending  usually  in  sand. 

On  Saturday  the  run  was  made  from  Albion  to  South 
Bend.  As  far  as  Kalamazoo  and  for  some  distance 
beyond  the  roads  were  hilly  and  for  the  most  part 
sandy, — a  disgrace  to  so  rich  and  prosperous  a  State. 

Through  Paw  Paw  and  Dowagiac  some  good 
stretches  of  gravel  were  found  and  good  time  was 
made.  It  was  dark  when  we  reached  the  Oliver  House 
in  South  Bend,  a  remarkably  fine  hotel  for  a  place  of 
the  size. 

The  run  into  Chicago  next  day  was  marked  by  no 
incident  worthy  of  note.  As  already  stated,  the  roads 
of  Indiana  are  generally  good,  and  fifteen  miles  an 
hour  can  be  averaged  with  ease. 


On   an   Automobile 


The  end 


Some 

reflections 


It  was  four  o'clock,  Sunday,  September  28,  when 
the  machine  pulled  into  the  stable  whence  it  departed 
nearly  two  months  before.  The  electricity  was  turned 
off,  with  a  few  expiring  gasps  the  motor  stopped. 

Taking  into  consideration  the  portions  of  the  route 
covered  twice,  the  side  trips,  and  making  some  allow 
ance  for  lost  roads,  the  distance  covered  was  over 
twenty-six  hundred  miles ;  a  journey,  the  hardships 
and  annoyances  of  which  were  more,  far  more,  than 
counterbalanced  by  the  delights. 

No  one  who  has  not  travelled  through  America  on 
foot,  horseback,  or  awheel  knows  anything  about  the 
variety  and  charm  of  this  great  country.  We  tra 
versed  but  a  small  section,  and  yet  it  seemed  as  if  we 
had  spent  weeks  and  months  in  a  strange  land.  The 
sensations  from  day  to  day  are  indescribable.  It  is 
not  alone  the  novel  sport,  but  the  country  and  the 
people  along  the  way  seemed  so  strange,  possibly  be 
cause  automobiling  has  its  own  point  of  view,  and 
certainly  people  have  their  own  and  widely  varying 
views  of  automobiling.  In  the  presence  of  the  ma 
chine  people  everywhere  become  for  the  time-being 
childlike  and  naive,  curious  and  enthusiastic;  they 
lose  the  veneer  of  sophistication,  and  are  as  approach 
able  and  companionable  as  children.  Automobiling  is 
therefore  doubly  delightful  in  these  early  days  of  the 
sport.  By  and  by,  when  the  people  become  accus 
tomed  to  the  machine,  they  will  resume  their  habit  of 
indifference,  and  we  shall  see  as  little  of  them  as  if  we 
were  riding  or  driving. 

With  some  exceptions  every  one  we  met  treated  the 


Through   Canada  Home  317 

machine  with  a  consideration  it  did  not  deserve.  Even 
those  who  were  put  to  no  little  inconvenience  with  their 
horses  seldom  showed  the  resentment  which  might 
have  been  expected  under  the  circumstances.  On  the 
contrary,  they  seemed  to  recognize  the  right  of  the 
strange  car  to  the  joint  use  of  the  highway,  and  to 
blame  their  horses  for  not  behaving  better.  Verily, 
forbearance  is  an  American  virtue. 

The  machine  itself  stood  the  journey  well,  all  things  Machine  /« 
considered.  It  lacked  power  and  was  too  light  for  s°od  condltwn 
such  a  severe  and  prolonged  test ;  but,  when  taken 
apart  to  be  restored  to  perfect  condition,  it  was  aston 
ishing  how  few  parts  showed  wear.  The  bearings 
had  to  be  adjusted  and  one  or  two  new  ones  put 
in.  A  number  of  little  things  were  done,  but  the 
mechanic  spent  only  forty  hours'  time  all  told  in 
making  the  machine  quite  as  good  as  new.  A  coat 
of  paint  and  varnish  removed  all  outward  signs  of 
rough  usage. 

However,  one  must  not  infer  that  automobiling  is 
an  inexpensive  way  of  touring,  but  measured  by  the 
pleasure  derived,  the  expense  is  as  nothing;  at  the 
same  time  look  out  for  the  man  who  says  "  My  ma 
chine  has  not  cost  me  a  cent  for  repairs  in  six  months." 

It  is  singular  how  reticent  owners  of  automobiles 
are  concerning  the  shortcomings  and  eccentricities  of 
their  machines ;  they  seem  leagued  together  to  deceive 
one  another  and  the  public.  The  literal  truth  can  be 
found  only  in  letters  of  complaint  written  to  the  manu 
facturers.  The  man  who  one  moment  says  his  machine 
is  a  paragon  of  perfection,  sits  down  the  next  and 
writes  the  factorv  a  letter  which  would  be  debarred 


3  i  8  On  an  Automobile 

the  mails  if  left  unsealed.  Open  confession  is  good 
for  the  soul,  and  owners  of  automobiles  must  culti 
vate  frankness  of  speech,  for  deep  in  our  innermost 
hearts  we  all  know  that  a  machine  would  have  so  tried 
the  patience  of  Job  that  even  Bildad  the  Shuhite  would 
have  been  silenced. 

Parallel  jn  the  year  1735  a  worthy  Puritan  divine,  pastor 

over  a  little  flock  in  the  town  of  Maiden,  made  the 
following  entries  in  his  diary : 

"January  jj. — Bought  a  shay  for  £27  IQS.  The 
Lord  grant  it  may  be  a  comfort  and  a  blessing  to  my 
family. 

"March,  1755. — Had  a  safe  and  comfortable  jour 
ney  to  York. 

"  April  24. — Shay  overturned,  with  my  wife  and  I 
in  it ;  yet  neither  of  us  much  hurt.  Blessed  be  our 
generous  Preserver!  Part  of  the  shay,  as  it  lay  upon 
one  side,  went  over  my  wife,  and  yet  she  was  scarcely 
anything  hurt.  How  wonderful  the  preservation. 

"  May  5. — Went  to  the  Beach  with  three  of  the 
children.  The  beast  being  frighted,  when  we  were 
all  out  of  the  shay,  overturned  and  broke  it.  I  desire 
it  (I  hope  I  desire  it)  that  the  Lord  would  teach  me 
suitably  to  repent  this  Providence,  and  make  suitable 
remarks  on  it,  and  to  be  suitably  affected  with  it.  Have 
I  done  well  to  get  me  a  shay  ?  Have  I  not  been  proud 
or  too  fond  of  this  convenience?  Do  I  exercise  the 
faith  in  the  divine  care  and  protection  which  I  ought 
to  do?  Should  I  not  be  more  in  my  study  and  less 
fond  of  diversion  ?  Do  I  not  withhold  more  than  is 
meet  from  pious  and  charitable  uses? 


Through   Canada  Home  319 

"  May  15. — Shay  brought  home ;  mending  cost 
thirty  shillings.  Favored  in  this  beyond  expecta 
tion. 

"  May  16. — My  wife  and  I  rode  to  Rumney  Marsh. 
The  beast  frighted  several  times. 

"June  4. — Disposed  of  my  shay  to  Rev.  Mr. 
White." 

MORAL. — Under  conditions  of  like  adversity,  let 
every  chauffeur  cultivate  the  same  spirit  of  humility, 
— and  look  for  a  Deacon  White. 


INDEX 


Accidents  on  the  road  caused  by,  50,  51 

Albany,   83,    102,    122,   123,  294;  incon-    i 
venient   for  automobiles,  136 ;  out  of,    j 
295  ;    to  Brainerd,  ridges  between,  137, 
138;  to    Pittsfield,  137,  138;  to   Troy, 
295 

Albion,  315 

Alcott,    as     a     neighbor,   209,    210;    at    | 
Walden,   218  ;  death  and  funeral,  244 ; 
impressions  of  Emerson,  214,  215  ;  not 
a  leader,    226 

Alcott,  Louisa,   death    and  funeral,  244,    j 
245  ;  her  last  words,  245 

Alcotts   and    the    Hawthornes,  209,  219 

Amateur  mechanics,  10 

America,    discovery    of,    by    Norsemen, 
183 ;     unparalleled     development    and    j 
opportunities,  224 

American  and  French  automobiles,  20-22 

American  roads,  50,  51  ;  wear  and  tear 
on  machine,  40 

Amsterdam  to  Schenectady,  134 

Anarchism,  277;  a  bubble,  285,286  ;  and 
Nihilism,  288;  and  Phillips  Brooks, 
283,  784  ,  a  political  theory,  280  ;  apos 
tles  of,  286, 287  ;  as  a  doctrine,  286,  287  ; 
law  in  the  case  of  the  Chicago  anarch 
ists,  291 ;  laws  against  acts  rather  than 
theories,  289,  290 ;  legislation  against 
''propaganda  of  action,"  289;  "  pro 
paganda  of  action,"  287,  288;  seed  of, 
280,  281 ;  the  Chicago  anarchists,  289- 
291 

Anarchists,  errors  of,  285,  286 

Anarchy  and  Huxley,  282 

Anarchy's  greatest  crime,  279 

Ann  Lee,  145-149 

Arlington,  190 


Army  mules,  165 

Artist,  his  career,  269,  270 

Asbestos,  substitute  for,  13 

Ashtabula,  57 ;  roads  out  of,  60,  61 

As  others  see  us,  210,  211 

Assistance,  pay  for,  16-18 

Auburn,  123,  300 

Auburndale,  188 

Automobile.  American  z's.  French,  20-22  ; 
and  civilization,  71,  72;  and  deserted 
hostelries,  257,  258 ;  and  the  law,  64  ; 
and  Morpheus,  175,  176;  and  time, 
97  ;  as  a  thing  of  beauty,  72  ;  a  strange 
vehicle.  17;  capricious,  93,  94;  condi 
tion  of  at  end  of  trip,  317,  318 ;  con 
struction  imperfect,  81,  82  ;  do  not  lose 
sight  of,  93,  94 ;  electric  woman  can 
drive,  9 ;  for  amateurs,  23 ;  gasoline, 
capricious,  9  ;  habit,  170  ;  horse-power 
of,  20,  21 ;  no  respecter  of  persons,  201, 
202  ;  "  not  allowed,"  186 ;  on  high 
Olympus,  67,  68  ;  popular  notions  con 
cerning,  138,  139 ;  racing  motor,  140 ; 
road  books,  34  ;  stores,  142,  143 ;  ter 
ror  of,  1 86,  187;  touring,  95,  96;  wear 
and  tear  of,  40 ;  works  badly,  88,  89 

Automobile  Club  of  America,  132,  273 

Automobiling,  charm  of,  7  ;  clothing  for, 
25,  26 ;  compared  with  yachting  and 
other  sports,  40,  41  ;  promise  of,  307  ; 
through  historic  places,  246,  247 

Avon,  no,  115,  124,  300,  301  ;  glory  of, 
departed,  301 

B 

Ballrooms,  ancient,  257 

Batavia,  83,  84,  103,  105,  108,  109,  no, 
111,114,115;  new  batteries,  88 ;  news 
papers,  107 ;  on  return  trip,  302  ; 
second  visit  to,  99  ;  to  Canandaigua. 
roads  perfect,  88  ;  to  Geneva,  124 
321 


322 


Index 


Batteries,  84  ;   connecting,  85  ;   testing,  85    i 

Battle  Creek,  315 

Beans,  Boston  baked,  253  ;   discovery  of    I 
a  new  bean,  253,  254 

Beast,  gasoline  automobile  an  obdurate, 
10 

Becket,  172 

Bedford,  202 

Bellevue,  54 

Benton,  Ind.,  38 

Bergen,  104,  121,  124 

Berkshires,  The,  161,  169  ;  over  the  hills, 
169,  170;  roads  through,  168 

Beverly  and  Manchester,  186 

Bicycle  road  maps,  33,  34 

Blandford,  172 

Boston,  122  ;  and  Christ  Church,  189 ; 
and  commercialism,  192  ;  arrival  at, 
186 ;  baked  beans,  253 ;  departure 
from,  1 88 ;  from  Worcester  into,  181- 
186  ;  to  New  York,  266-272 

Boulevards  in  Chicago,  31,  32 

Bowling  Green,  road  too  sandy,  45 

Boy,  curiosity  of  the  small,  n 

Brainerd,  137, 138,  141  ;  telegraph  office, 

.    142 

Brighton  bridge,  192 

Brook  Farm,  150 

Brookfield,  176 

Brookline  to  the  Newtons,  182 

Bryan,  153,  154  ;  a  failure  as  a  leader,  154 

Buckman  tavern,  201 

Buffalo,  27,  39.  93,  102,  124;  arrival  at, 
72  ;  chapter  on,  73  ;  first  glimpse  of, 
71 ;  last  view,  302,  303  ;  leaving,  308  ; 
starting  from  second  time,  98;  to 
Albany  by  way  of  Syracuse,  123 ;  to 
Canandaigua,  83 

Bunker  Hill,  192 

Burdick,  Ind.,  32 

Burgundy,  250 

Butler,  Ind.,  43  ;   roads  heavy,  45 

Byron,  104,  124 

Caledonia,  no,  121,  124,  301 
Calling  on  friends,  96,  97 
Calling  the  ferry,  267 
Camillus,  123 


Canada,  308;  annexation  of,  311-314; 
destiny  of,  313,  314  ;  England  and 
America,  313  ;  is  an  anachronism ,  311 

Canadian  hotels,  309,  310;  roads,  310 

Canandaigua,  89.  101,  103,  105,  109,  no, 
112,  113,  115;  jail,  in,  116;  long  hill 
out  of,  91  ;  old  negro  porter,  125  ;  to 
Geneva,  124, 126 

Caiioe  meet  on  Charles  River,  185 

Carlyle,  Ind.,  36 

Carlyle  and  Emerson,  222,  223 

Celibacy,  147,  148 

Chablis,  250 

Chain  breaks,  292  ;  lubricating  of,  80,  81 ; 
repairing,  293  ;  too  short,  89 

Champagne,  250 

Charles  River  near  Auburndale,  185 

Charlestown,  189 

Charm  of  automobiling,  7 

Chauffeur,  experienced,  18  ;  real,  13  ; 
sham,  18 ;  stories  of,  273,  274  ;  sympa 
thy  with  driver  of  horse,  64,  65  ;  the 
young,  is  panicky,  12 

Chesterton,  Ind.,  32 

Chicago,  arrival  at  315,  316  ;  boulevards. 
31,  32  ;  roads  of  New  York  and,  39 

Christ  Church,  189 

Christian  Science,  31 

Circus  and  the  preacher,  75 

Cities  vs.  Villages,  122 

City  riding,  123 

Civilization  and  automobile,  71,  72 

Claret,  250 

Clarke  house  in  Lexington,  189,  190,  201 

Cleveland,  55,  56,  57,  154 

Cleveland,  Ex-president,  illegal  fishing. 
160-162 

Clos  de  Vougeot,  253 

Clothes,  24,  25 

Clyde, 123 

Coaching  compared  with  automobiling, 
40,  41 ;  coaching  days,  102 

Coasting,  91 

Codfish  balls,  253,  254 

Coil  defective,  175 

Commonwealth  Avenue,  186 

Communism,  149,  150;  absolutism  of, 
150,  151 


Index 


323 


Conceivable,  the,  and  the  inconceivable, 
238 

Concord,  182,  192  ;  and  Lexington,  183, 
188 ;  Concord  grape,  203 ;  leaving, 
246;  School  of  Philosophy  and  Litera 
ture,  225  ;  there  is  but  one,  240 

Connecticut  and  Rhode  Island,  259; 
through  central,  266 

Construction  imperfect,  81,  82 

Country,  our  own,  306, 307  ;  the  beauties 
of  a  man's  own,  303,  304 

Court-house,  Pittsfield,  165 

Critic  and  cricicism,  7 

Crocker,  Ind.,  32 

Crowd,  madding,  n 

Crowds  and  summer  resorts,  261,  262 

Cupid  and  the  automobile,  67,  68 

Curiosity  cf  older  people,  12  ;  of  small 
boy,  ii 

Customs,  formalities,  308,  309 

Cylinder,  cleaning  out,  77,  78;  single  vs. 
multiple,  21-24 

D 

Dalton  and  Hinsdale,  road  through,  169 

Daniel  Johns,  107 

Dawes,  190 

Delusions  of  others,  217 

Democrat,  an  old  timer,  154 

Democratic  leaders,  154 ;  party,  icono 
clastic,  153 

Deserted  hostelries  and  the  automobile, 
257 

Devil's  Elbow.  144 

Dinner  in  Shaker  village,  144-146 

Dirt  and  grime,  25,  26 

Dobbin,  dear  old,  68,  69 

Dobbs  Ferry,  292 

Dolly-bar,  substitute  for.  13 

Dorchester,  192 

Dowagiac,  315 

Dowieites,  29,  30 

Drinking  a  lost  art,  250,  251 

Ducks,  old  lady  with,  43,  44 

Duplicate  parts,  13 


East  Lexington. 
Edgerton.  45 


Egypt,  124 

Electric  automobile,  woman  can  drive,  9 

Elkhart,  Ind.,  37 

Elyria,  56 

|  Emerson  and  Carlyle,  222,  223  ;  and  im 
mortality,  232;  and  Mr.  Hosmer,  215, 
216  ;  and  ritualism,  193,  194  ;  and  the 
slavery  question,  196,  197;  and  the 
spade,  150;  and  Thoreau,  219;  the 
apostle  of  beauty,  198;  at  Longfel 
low's  funeral,  230;  at  the  Unitarian 
Church  in  Providence,  198,  199 ;  at 
Walden,  218;  at  Wayside  Inn,  184; 
catholic  spirit,  210;  clear  voice,  198; 
described  by  Mrs.  Hawthorne,  206 ; 

i  disconnected  thoughts,  194, 195  ;  frank 
ness,  195 ;  funeral,  243,  244 ;  home, 
227,  228;  home  destroyed  by  fire, 
228 ;  last  days,  228-232 ;  last  words 
about  Carlyle,  230;  message,  197, 
198 ;  method  of  thought,  195,  196 ; 
naivete,  196 ;  note-books  and  jour 
nals,  195,  196;  on  communism,  150; 
opinion  of  Alcott,  214 ;  opinion  of 
Hawthorne,  212  ;  thoughts  concerning 
death,  197;  where  a  great  man  really 
lives,  220-222 

Endurance  contest,  273;  route  of,  292, 
293,  300;  some  accounts  of,  274-276 

Erie,  roads  out  of,  69,  70 

Euclid  avenue,  57 

Everett,  Edward,  oration  at  Lexington, 
200 

Expert  mechanic,  18 

Exposition  at  Buffalo,  73-75 


Fairfield,  172 

Farmer,  willingness  to  help,  12 

Farmer's  wagon-shed,  resources  of,  14 

Farmers  and  good  roads,  173,  174 

Fayetteville,  299 

Ferries  at  New   London  and  Lyme,  267  ; 

from  Sarnia  to  Port  Huron,  311 
Fish-balls,  253 
Fishing  episode,  160-162 
Fishkill  village,  293 
Five  weeks  of  touring,  94,  95 


324 


Index 


Flint,  314  ;  leaving,  315  ;  repairs  at,  315 

Fonda,  134,  168,  296 

Follen  Church,  193;  and    Emerson,  193, 

194 

Fording  stream,  38 
Foreword,  7 
Fort  Niagara,  117 
Framingham,  182.  259 
Frankfort,  297,  298 
Franklin,  259 
Freedom  and  liberty,  151 
Freemont,  August  2,  52 
Frenchman's  vanity,  10 
Frightening  a  lawyer,  159,  160 


Ganson,  James,  108 ;  Ganson's  tavern, 
no 

Gasoline,  68,  133,  134 

Gasoline  automobile,  capricious,  9  ;  does 
not  tire,  138,  139 

Gasoline  consumed  39  ;  receptacles  not 
clean,  172;  stove  grade,  134;  supply, 
general  remarks,  133,  134 ;  supply 
poor  in  Canada,  310 

Gearing,  39;  too  high,  89,  90;  disadvan 
tage  in  only  two  sets,  90,  91,  158 

Genesee  Street  out  of  Buffalo,  124 

Genesee  Valley,  124 

Geneva,  123,  126  ;  lake  at  night,  127  ;  to 
Auburn,  127 

Genius,  216,  217 

Girard,  60 

Good-roads  sentiment,  174 

Goshen  to  Kendallville,  Ind.,  38,  39 

Government,  evils  of,  283 ;  necessary 
and  not  an  evil,  281,  282 

Graphite  compounds,  80,  81 

Great  Barrington,  162;  District  Court, 
161 

Green's  Inn  out  of  season,  266 

Groton,  189 

H 

Hamilton,  Ont.,  310 
Hamilton  at  Wayside  Inn,  184 
Hammond,  Ind.,  32;  to  Hobart,  32 


;    Hancock  and  Adams,  189,  190 
•    Hanford's  near  Rochester,  116 
I    Harrington's  home,  199 ;  last  survivor  of 
battle  of  Lexington,  199 

Hartford,  266 

Hastings,  292 

Haul  Brion,  252 

Hawthorne,  206  :  and  Thoreau,  217,  218  ; 
and  the  Wayside,  203  ;  at  Wayside 
Inn,  184;  call  at  the  Emersons,  211  ; 
death  and  funeral,  242,  243  ;  described 
by  Mrs.  Hawthorne,  206;  estimate  of 
Emerson,  213:  honeymoon,  204-210; 
on  over-appreciation,  215,216:  reflec 
tions  on  the  graves  of  two  British  sol 
diers,  240,  241  ;  reserve,  211 ;  return  to 
Concord,  209 

Hawthorne,  Mrs.,  letters  of,  204-210 

Hayward,  James,  of  Acton,  202 

Herald  Square  on  the  night  of  Presi 
dent's  death,  278 

Herkimer,  132,  297  ;   road  through,  132 

Hillside  Chapel,  226 

Hinsdale,  169 

Hobart,  Ind.,  33 

Holliston,  259 

Home,  308 

Homes  of  great  men,  fascination  of,  227. 
228 

Hoodlums,  14-16 

Horn  vs.  Gong,  44' 

Horse-power,  American  and  foreign  rat 
ing,  20, 21  ;  meaning  of  term,  139. 
140 

Horse,  woman,  and  basket  of  eggs,  301, 
302 

Horses,  assistance  of,  humiliating,  13  ; 
and  their  drivers,  63,  64 :  frightening, 
302  ;  how  to  pass,  65, 66  ;  loose,  47,  48  ; 
tethered  by  roadside,  47,  48 ;  to  be 
considered,  62,  63 

Hotel  at  Geneva,  126  ;  Touraine,  186 

Hotels  in  New  York,  296 ;  on  noisy 
streets,  121 

Howe  Family  and  Wayside  Inn.  247, 
248;  Howe,  Lyman,  portrait  0^,248 

Hudson  River,  137 

Huxley  and  anarchism,  282 


Index 


325 


Ignition,  defective  coil  removed,  181 ; 
effect,  spark  fails,  172,  173-175  ;  locat 
ing  the  trouble,  176,  177 

Ignorance  is  bliss,  28 

Illinois  roads,  39 

Imagination  and  steam,  304 

Immortal,  all  things  are,  236;  immortal 
ity  of  the_individual,  232-239 

Indiana  roads,  32, 33, 39 

Individual  soul.  232,  239 

Insulation,  85,  86 

Inventors  puzzled,  10 


Jack,  substitute  for,  13 
Jackson,  315 
Johannisberger,  252 
Justice,  administration  of,  162 

K 

Kalamazoo,  315 

Kendallville,  starting  from,  43 

King's  Bridge,  292 

Kipton,  56 

Kossuth  at  Lexington,  201 


Labor  Day  in  Worcester,  177;  parade, 
177,  178 

Labor  organizations  and  organization  of 
employers,  179,  180 

Lafayette  at  Lexington,  201 ;  at  Way 
side  Inn, 184 

Lake  Erie,  70,  71 

Lansing,  315 

Lapeer,  314;  sandy  hill  near,  314 

Laporte,  Ind.,  33 

Lasell  Seminary,  185 

Latham's  Corners,  136 

Law  and  the  automobiles,  64 ;  illegal 
fishing,  ex-President  Cleveland,  160- 
162 

Lawyer,  complaint  by,  163,  164  ;  fright 
ened,  159,  160 ;  timid,  162,  163 

Learning,  dangers  of,  224 

Lebanon,  valley  of,  96,  137 

Lenox,  170;   road  through.  169 


Le  Roy,  101,  104,  105,  no,  in,  124,  301 ; 

out  of,  in  rain,  120 
Letters  of  Mrs.  Hawthorne,  204-210 
Lewiston,  105,  117;  road,  116 
Lexington,  182,  183,  191,  192;   and  Con 
cord,  chapter  on,   188;  and   Paul  Re 
vere,  190  ;  battle  of,  200  ;   old  burying- 
ground,  201;  ride  from  East  Lexington 
to  the  centre,  199  ;  the  Common,  200  ; 
to  Concord,  202  ;  town  hall  and  Follen 
Church,  193 
Liars,  all  men  are,  276 
Life,  and   a   man's   place   of   residence, 
220-222 ;     an    automobile    race,    152  ; 
taking  of  human,  241 
Ligonier,  Ind.,  38 
Little  Women,  author  of,  225,  226 
Liverymen,  willingness  to  help,  12 
London,  Ontario,  94,  310;  to  Sarnia,  311 
Long  Bridge,  192 
Longfellow  at  Wayside  Inn,  184  ;  funeral, 

230 

Lord  Percy's  stone  cannon,  200 
Lubricants,  78-81 
Lucullus,  banquet  of,  253 
Luggage,  devices  for  carrying,  24 
j    Lyme,  ferry  across  river,  267 
j    Lyons,  123,  300 

M 

Macadamized  roads,  use  of,  173,  174 
Macedon,  124 
Machine  used,  20,  21 
Madding  crowd,  n 
Madeira,  251,  253 
Madrid,  effect   of  visit   to,  on    an  artist. 

270,271 

Magazine  of  Fort  Niagara.  118 
Maiden,  318 
Manchester,  186 
Manufacturers   and  American  roads,  50. 

52 

Margaret  Fuller,  216 
Margaux,  252 
Margin  of  safety,  50 

Marlborough,    182 ;   to    Boston   by  Con 
cord,  182 

Masonic  Lodge  at  Stafford,  101 
Masons  and  Morgan,  104.  105 


326 


Index 


Massachusetts,  162  ;  and  obliteration  of 
old  names,  191,  192;  roads,  260; 
through, 168 

Mechanics,  amateur,  10 ;  beware,  87,  88  ; 
expert,  18,  19 

Medford,  190 

Medway,  259 

Menotomy,  190;  and  Arlington,  191; 
old  name  of,  192 

Mentor,  57 

Miamis,  269 

Michigan  avenue,  29 

Michigan  roads,  39,  314 

Midway,  the,  75,  76 

Miller,  Morgan's  publisher,  103,  109  ; 
arrest,  in 

Mohawk  Valley,  33,  131,  134,  135 

Molineaux,  Major,  at  Wayside  Inn,  248, 
249 

Monroe  tavern,  199 

Monterey,  161 

Monti,  the  Young  Sicilian.  255 

Morgan,  abduction  of,  112,  113  ;  confes 
sion  of,  114,  115  ;  abductors  sentenced, 
114;  and  Fort  Niagara,  117,  118; 
and  the  Masons,  104,  105 ;  arrest,  108  ; 
discharge  by  justice,  no;  discovery  of 
body,  119;  history  of,  104,105;  kid 
nappers  tried,  115,  116;  manuscript. 
115;  monument,  99,  100  ;  papers,  108, 
115;  proclamations  by  Governor  Clin 
ton,  118,  119  ;  release,  112  ;  second  ar 
rest,  109,  no;  wife,  108 ;  mystery,  be 
ginning  of  story,  106 

Mormons,  147,  148 

Morpheus  and  the  automobile,  175,  176 

Motor,  pounding  in,  55  ;  single  cylinder,  | 
23  ;  single  Z'S.  multiple  cylinder,  21-24  ' 

Mount  Lebanon,  146 

Mud,  between  Poughkeepsie  and  Al-  ; 
bany,  294,  295 ;  from  Fonda  to  Utica,  j 
296,  297  ;  in  machinery,  84 

N 

I 

Napoleon,  Ohio,  45  ;  to  Perrysburg,  47 
Narragansett    Pier,    260 ;   and  Newport, 
262-266;   and  the    crowd,  261.  262  ;   ar 
rival  at  Green's  Inn.  261 


National  literature,  223,  224 

Natives  and  foreigners,  305,  306 

Nature,  about  us,  305  ;  and  solitude,  171, 
172  ;  a  unit,  304  ;  by  sunrise,  136  ;  by 
sunset,  135,  136 

Nelson's  Hill,  168,  293 

Newark,  123 

New  England  and  beans,  254 ;  supper, 
175  ;  towns  are  thrifty,  160 

New  Haven,  266,  268  ;  to  New  York,  269 

Newkirk,  104,  124 

New  London,  ferry  across  river,  267 

Newport,  123;  and  Narragansett  Pier. 
262-266  :  life  at,  262-266 

Newton,  182 

New  York,  102,  122 ;  approached  by 
night,  272  ;  arrival  in,  273  ;  from  Bos 
ton,  266-272  ;  leaving  for  Albany,  292  ; 
roads  to,  39;  through  western,  120; 
to  Buffalo,  292  ;  State,  hills  of,  90 

Night,  effect  of,  upon  scenery,  272,  273 

Nile  route  to  Canandaigua,  124 

Norembega  Park,  182 

Norembega  tower,  182 

North  bridge,  240 

North  Chili,  124 

North  Family  in  Shaker  village,  144.  145 

North  shore,  186 

Norwalk,  Conn.,  celebration  at,  269 

Norwalk,  Ohio,  54;  to  Cleveland.  56,  57 

Noyes,  John,  147 


Oberlin,  56 

Observations,  preliminary,  9 

October  Mountain.  171 

"  Odds,  writs  and  warrants,"  163,  164 

Ohio,  into,  42  ;   roads,  39,  54 

Oils,  lubricating.  78-80 

Old  Bedford  Road,  202 

Old  fort  at  Lewiston,  116,  117 

Old  Manse,  192,  193,  203,  210,  240  ; 
and  Emerson's  grandfather,  241,  242; 
description  of,  by  Hawthorne,  204  ;  de 
scription  of  by  Mrs.  Hawthorne,  204- 
210;  life  of  the  Hawthornes  at,  208, 
209 

Old  names  changed,  191-193 


Index 


327 


Old  North  Church,  189,  191 

Old  Sarnia  gravel,  94 

Old  taverns,  201 

Old  well  near  Lexington.  202 

Ole  Bull,  256 

Oneida  Castle,  299 

Oneida  Community,  147 

Oneida  tavern,  128;   old  hotel  proprietor, 

128,  129 

Oneida  to  Utica,  131,  132 
Ontario,  132 
Orchard  House,  209,  225 
Ordinances  and  speed,  66,  67  ;   the  law  in 

Pittsfield,  164,  165 
Osceola,  Ind.,  38 
Otis,  172 
Otis,  Ind.,  32 

Over-soul,  Emerson's  phrase,  237 
Owosso,  315 

P 

Painesville,  57  ;   roads  out  of,  60 

Palatine  Bridge,  134 

Palmyra,  123,  124,  300;   road.  116 

Parker,  Captain,  200 

Paul  Revere,  201  ;  ride,  188-191 

Paw-Paw,  315 

Pawtucket,  259  ;  leaky  tire,  260 

Pay  for  services,  16-18 

Peekskill,  168,  293 

Perrysburg,  47 

Perry's  Pike,  48,  49 

Philippines,  purchase  of,  154 

Philosophy    and    immortality,    232-239 ; 

and  truth,  227 
Pittsfield,    137,     158;     arriving   in,    159; 

courtesy  of  bench  in,  165  ;   decision   of 

court,    166;    road    to    Lenox.    169;   to 

Springfield,  168,  169 
Pittsford,  123,  124,  300 
Popular  notions  concerning  automobiles.  | 

I38,  I39 

Pork  and  beans,  254 
Port,  250 

Port  Byron,  123,  300 
Porter,  Ind,,  32 
Port  Huron,  314 
Poughkeepsie,  294 
Pounding,  how  to  discover.  56 


Preliminary  observations,  9 

Prescott,  Samuel,  190 

President,  an  executive  official,  280 ; 
President  McKinley,  death  of,  277, 
278;  Presidents,  assassination  of,  279 

Pride's  Hill,  168 

Professor,  the,  27  ;  and  Christian  Science. 
31 ;  and  civilization,  71  ;  and  Dowie, 
29-31  ;  and  the  Midway,  75,  77;  and 
Dobbin,  68,  69  ;  and  horses,  62  ;  and 
lovemaking,  69;  and  yellow  journals, 
44,  45  ;  an  early  call,  42  ;  bump  of  lo 
cality,  61;  courage,  49;  forecast,  67,68  ; 
ignorance  and  learning,  28,  29 ;  igno 
rance  is  bliss,  91-93  ;  is  cold,  44,  45  ;  is 
tired,  86,  87  ;  log,  38  ;  makes  inquiries 
at  Freemont,  52,  53  ;  return,  94  ;  vaca 
tion  ended, 93 ;  wrath, 46,  47 

Providence,  259  ;  and  Emerson  at  the 
Unitarian  Church,  198,  199  ;  to  Narra- 
gansett  Pier,  260 

Punctured  tires,  32,  33  ;   repairing,  33 

Pure  grape  juice,  146 


Racing  cars,  21,  22 

Railroad  spike  in  tire,  57 

Rain,  43,  44;  roads  after,  120;  very 
heavy, 296,  297 

Rainy  weather,  83,  84,  294,  295 

Rainy  Sunday,  176 

Recklessness,  49,  50 

Red  Horse  Tavern,  184 

Reflections  on  the  journey,  316,  317 

Repairs,  13  ;  after  dark,  92  ;  beware  ot 
country  mechanic,  87,  88  ;  to  differen 
tial  gears,  91  ;  in  Boston,  187  ;  looking 
over  machine,  42,  43  ;  Syracuse,  127. 
128 

Republican  party,  reverential,  153 

Revere,  Paul,  his  ride,  188-191  ;  capture 
of,  190,  191  ;  death  of,  191 

Rhode  Island  and  Connecticut,  259 

Ridges  out  of  Albany,  137 

Ridgeville,  45 

Ripley,  George,  and  Brook  Farm.  150 

River  road  out  of  Napoleon,  45 

Road  maps,  33,  34 


328 


Index 


Roads,  Albany  and  Troy,  295  ;  Ameri 
can,  50,  51  ;  from  Boston  to  New  York, 
266-272  ;  Canadian,  310 ;  clay  or  sand, 
35  ;  inquiring  the  way,  34,  36 ;  finding 
the,  33,  34  ;  following  directions  about 
Boston,  183;  from  Geneva  to  Auburn, 
127:  from  Le  Roy  to  Rochester,  121  ; 
from  London  to  Sarnia,  311  ;  Massa 
chusetts,  260  ;  Michigan,  314,  315,  316  ; 
Narragansett  Pier  to  New  Haven,  266, 
267;  New  York  to  Albany,  292-295; 
Ohio,  54;  out  of  Cleveland,  57  ;  Prov 
idence  to  Narragansett  Pier,  260; 
Schenectady  and  Fonda,  296  ;  Spring 
field  to  Worcester,  173  ;  through  Frank 
fort,  297 ;  through  Herkimer,  132  ; 
Wayside  Inn  to  Providence,  259,  260  ; 
Worcester  to  Boston,  181-186 

Rochester,  104,  105,  124,  300 ;  and  Mor 
gan,  116  ;  arrival  at,  121  ;  road  to  Syra 
cuse,  123 

Romani  Conti,  253 

Rubber  bands,  repairing  tires,  37 

Russian  cap,  26 


Sambo,  125 

Sand  hills,  35,  36 

Sandy  Beard,  162-167 

Sandy  roads,  45.  46 

Sanford,  Judge,  161 

Sauterne,  250 

Schenectady,  134,  294  ;  to  Fonda,  296  ; 
to  Albany,  136 

Scotch  cap,  26 

Seneca  Falls,  300 

Shakers,  96,  146-152  ;  beverage,  146  ;  a 
brother,  148 ;  a  maiden,  145  ;  princi 
ples  of,  149,  150  ;  revelation,  149  ;  set 
tlement,  144  ;  village,  143, 144  ;  village, 
life  in,  151,  152 

Sheridan,  apologies  to,  163,  164 

Sheridan  Road,  31,  32 

Sherry,  250 

Shrewsbury,  182 

Silver  question,  155 

Slavery  question  and  Emerson,  196,  197 


Sleepy  Hollow,  204, 242  ;  a  last  view,  245 , 

246  ;  described  by  Mrs.  Hawthorne,  207 
Society  is  piracy,  266 
Soldiers,    graves    of  two    British,    240 ; 

meeting  at  well,  202  ;   mission,  202,  203  ; 

monument  at  Lexington,  200,  201 
Solitude,  171,  172 
Sound  Beach,  269 
South  Bend,  36,  315 
Southborough, 182 
Soul,  the  all-pervading,  232-239 
Spain,  treaty  with,  154 
Spanish  Jew  from  Alicant,  256 
Speed   in    England.  67 ;  in    Ireland,  67  ; 

rate  of,  66,  67 

Spencer,  ignition  fails  at,  176,  177 
Sport,  automobiling  as  a,  7,  40,  41 
Spring  breaks,  310,  311 
Springfield,  168,  173,  266 
St.  Catharines,  308  ;  to  London,  310,  311 
St.  George  Hotel,  301 
St.  Johnsville,  297 
Stafford,  101,  103,   104,  no,  in  ;  tavern, 

108,  109 

Start,  the,  17,  19 
State  road  over  mountain  to    Pittsfield, 

144,  158 

Steam  automobile,  man  can  drive,  9 
Steering-head  breaks,  141,  142 
Stony  River  road, 56 
Stories  of  chauffeurs,  273,  274 
"  Straw  Hat,"  162-166 
Strikes  and  strikers,  177-180 
Sudburys,  182,  189,  246 
Summer  hotels  and  crowds,  261,  262 
Summer  School  of  Philosophy,  226 
Sunrise,  nature  by,  136 
Sunset,  nature  by,  135,  136 
Suspension  bridge,  308 
Syracuse,  124,  127  ;  hotels,  121  ;  leaving. 
300 ;     road    from    Rochester,    123 ;  to 
Buffalo,  300,  301 ;  to  Oneida,  128 


Tales  of  a  Wayside  Inn,  Young  Sicilian  . 

254,  255 

Tammany,  influence  of,  155.  156 
Tarrytown,  292 


Index 


329 


Tavern,  at  Stafford,  102  ;    Buckman.  201 

Monroe,  201  ;  Wright's,  201 
Thoreau.  appearance,  218;   described  by 
Mrs.  Hawthorne.  206  ;  early  home,  246  ; 
funeral,  242 
'Three  Rivers,  47 
Tilden    and    Cleveland,    154  ;     Tilden's 

birthplace,  152,  153 
Time  and  automobile.  97 
Tire,  leaking,  187.  260 
Tires,  how  to  remove  and  put  on.  57.  58  ; 
extra,  33;  punctured,   32,   33,    57;  re 
pairing  with   rubber  bands.  37  ;   single 
and  double.  24 
Toledo,  48 
Toll-roads,  299.  300 
'Tools,  13 

Touring  on  automobile,  95,  96 
'Town  Hall,  Lexington.  193 
'Travel,    dangers    of.   224;  effect   of.  305. 

306 
'Troy,    leaving,    295  ;     repairs    at.    295  ; 

road,  136  ;  to  Schenectady.  296 
Trunks  and  hat-boxes,  24 
'Turkey,  the  sick,  156,  1^7 
Tyringham,  161 

U 

Ulysses  and  the  Sirens,  170 
Utica,  124.  131,132,297;  arrival  at,  298  ; 
overhauling  the  machine,  299  ;  to  Syra 
cuse,  299 

V 

Valley,    Genesee    and    Wyoming,    124; 

Mohawk,  131  ;    of  Lebanon,  137.    143, 

157, 158 

Valparaiso,  hid.,  33 
Vegetarians,  145,  146 
Velasquez,  influence  of,  on  painters.  270 
Veracity  of  those  who  drive  automobiles, 

2/4,  275 
Villages  7'.v.  Cities.  122 

W 

Wakeman,  56 

Walden,  Emerson,  Alcott,  and   Thoreau 
at,  218,  219 


Waltham,   188  ;   Waltham  Street  to  Lex 
ington,  188 
Wandering  Jew,  170 

Washington  at  Wayside  Inn,  184 

Water  tank,  leak  in,  55 

Wayside  Inn,  184,  188,  201  :  arrival  at, 
247 ;  a  true  accomp.,  249 ;  ballroom, 
257;  departure  from,  259;  old  bar  is 
dry  at,  249,  250  ;  tales  of,  247-249  ;  the 
last  tale,  256 

Wayside,  'The.  203 

Wear  and  tear  of  machine,  40 

Wellesley,  182 

Western  New  York,  124 

Westfield,  172 

West  Medford,  190 

West  Wrentham,  259 

What  to  wear,  24.  25 

Wheel  off  in  Valley  of  Lebanon,  141. 
142 

Wheels,  wire  ?'s.  wood.  70 

Wickliff,  57 

Willoughby,  57 

Wine,  is  loquacious,  252  ;  no  longer  un 
derstood,  250.  251  ;  received  as  a 
strange  guest,  251  ;  serving  of,  251,  252 

Wives  of  the  great  men   of  Concord,  209 

Woman  can  drive  electric  automobile,  9 

Woman's  wit,  36 

Women  the  arbiters  of  social  fate,  265. 
266 

Worcester.  173,  176, 177,  266  ;  to  Boston, 
181-186 

Wright's  Tavern,  239,  240 

Wyoming  Valley.  124 


Yachting  compared   with   automobiling, 

40,  41 

Yellow  journals  and  the  Professor,  44.  45 
Yonkers,  292 
Young,  Brigham,  147 
Young  Sicilian,  254,  255 
Yquem,  252 


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